


Of Bats And Birds

by ScorchedAlpine



Series: Of Bird Bones and Breadcrumbs [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics), batfam - Fandom
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Family Drama, Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason Todd-centric, M/M, Nightmares, Past Drug Addiction, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Jason Todd, Protective Roy Harper, Slow Burn, Surgery, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-19 15:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22779679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScorchedAlpine/pseuds/ScorchedAlpine
Summary: Jason Todd returns to Gotham to take care of a few things, intent on keeping control of Crime Alley, but bats and birds aren't easily thrown off. The bats are convinced to reach out to the wayward bird, despite the fact that the not-so-broken bird has talons and the harsh feelings to back them up. Who will give in first? (Re-upload)
Relationships: Roy Harper & Koriand'r & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne
Series: Of Bird Bones and Breadcrumbs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1637680
Comments: 50
Kudos: 385





	1. Homecoming

Gotham’s exactly as cold and miserable as he remembered it. Kori’s just fine, but he and Roy are busy freezing their asses off on the roof of a building dead in the heart of his childhood stomping grounds. The weather in Crime Alley always seems worse than the rest of Gotham, despite how impossible it sounded. At least the two human members of the Outlaws had had the forethought to grab jackets from the safehouse before they went out.

“Remind me again what we’re watching for?” Roy asked, shivering like a chihuahua a foot away from him. His fingers were curled into the black leather jacket he’d borrowed from Jason as he pulled it tighter around himself. The red-head looked particularly miserable, his breath steaming in the air like smoke. Star City didn’t didn’t come anywhere close to Gotham in capacity for shit weather. No one really liked it except for a few of the natives (including Jason).

“Brent Korval. Tall, caucasian guy. Wears a thick gold chain, bald, ripped as hell. Blood-red oxford shoes.” he rattled off the top of his head, “And if you ask me again, I’m gonna push you off the roof.” Roy snickered at the threat. His eyes narrowed suddenly at someone passing on the street below. The archer dismissed it after a second, relaxing and waving off Jason who was currently hovering over his shoulder like a hunting dog.

He’d tensed like a wound spring at the prospect of going after the sick bastard that had messed with Jasmine, out of habit more than anything else. This one wouldn’t die; the guy wouldn’t make it in prison and they had more than enough evidence to put him away. Roy was a god when it came to messing with technology, and it turned out that Mr. Korval was quite the fan of money laundering and a few other big ticket crimes that would buy him some time in the joint.

“Red shoes would be useful to not be ruined by bloodstains.” Kori offered thoughtfully, settling beside the two of them. She was dressed warmer than usual, but had refused Jason’s third coat. It might not have fit her anyway considering the Tamaranean had three inches of height on him. He hummed in agreement, keeping his eyes trained on the street below.

Korval was keeping off the streets during the night. It couldn’t be because of them; they’d been careful. Roy, the least conspicuous of the three Outlaws at least in Gotham, had slunk around Crime Alley in his civvies earlier. No whisperings of anyone seeing the Red Hood, Arsenal, or Starfire. It was just a coincidence that they hadn’t spotted their guy yet. Or, he found out that the Red Hood had been seen around Jasmine Sung plenty of times when he had been the main crime lord of the Alley and figured he’d better hide like the rat he was.

Jason hadn’t been able to resist stopping a mugging an hour earlier, but hadn’t had to kill anyone in weeks. The big bads had stayed put in Arkham, or the Bats had gotten to them first and he hadn’t gotten the chance. All the small fish were scared enough of the Red Hood that he didn’t see them again after he knocked them around or got them put away. Nothing like a guy in a red helmet beating the living shit out of you to make you reconsider a life of crime.

Word about the heads in a duffel bag had gotten out, and the residents of Crime Alley had seen enough to understand that it probably wasn’t a myth. Then, an evidence photo had gotten out and they’d known it was real. It helped his reputation as a big bad in the baddest part of Gotham. Jason had discovered that apparently, now, if you were a low-level criminal and you saw the Red Hood coming for you, you stopped whatever the hell you were doing and you ran like your life depended on it.

“Red, you got a plan if someone stages an impromptu reunion?” Roy asked quietly.

Jason sighed, cringing at the possibility. He couldn’t even pick which one would be the worst of them to run into. Grayson would try to bring him in, all feelings and pushiness and guilt for being a dickhead when Jason had been Robin. The replacement was a wild card. Jason had very nearly managed to kill him when he was the worst off the rails, so his reaction probably wouldn’t be fantastic. The current Robin was yet another wild card. Talia’s brat. He recognized the voice from recordings he’d seen of him and Batman. Any kid of an Al Ghul was one he didn’t want to mess with, especially that little psycho.

Talia had saved him from Ra’s Al Ghul, but also wound him up and sicked him on the bats. Sure, he believed in taking out the ones that just broke out of Arkham again and again and ended in mounting casualties, but killing the Replacement wasn’t him behind the wheel. He absolutely didn’t like the little bastard, but he didn’t want him dead.

And he didn’t know what would happen if he saw Bruce. Both of the other Outlaws knew it, and he could tell Roy had only asked about the plan so Jason could navigate what answer he wanted to give to that minefield of a prospect. Most of the Lazarus Pit insanity was out of his system, but there was still a mountain of shitty feelings involved with Bruce. Honestly, he didn’t know what would happen if he saw the big bat. And man, it was one of the last things on earth he wanted to do, which meant it probably wouldn’t be good.

“If a bat or a bird shows up, we split and meet later at the safehouse.” He decided, “Don’t underestimate the little one; he’s sneaky and can fight with the best of them, and he more likely than not he really doesn’t like us. Keep going even if you think any of them have lost your tail, they’re stealthy enough to still be around.”

“And if the big Bat shows up?” Roy asked casually. “Roy.” Kori warned, shooting him a stern look. “What?” he protested, an irritated pout on his face, “It’s a valid question!”

“Keep him away from me.” he decided.

Roy smirked, another shiver running through his shoulders. “Roger that.” he echoed. Kori elbowed him and he yelped, shooting her a mock hurt glare. He cause a flash of golden shine under one of the streetlights, perking up at the sight of their prey.

The other Outlaws noticed the change in his posture, following his line of sight through the gloom down to their target. Roy grinned wolfishly, prodding Jason in the side. He smacked his hand away, straightening up and stepping up to the edge of the roof. Roy reached back into his quiver, selecting an arrow by memory and nocking it.

Jason leapt from the roof as Roy let the arrow fly. He could see it embed into the wall of the apartment building about a foot from Korval’s head, the smoke bomb engaging as the line of his grappling hook went taught and he swung through the air. They’d been careful not to be flashy as not to attract the attention of unwanted bats and birds, but they were getting the hell out of dodge after business was taken care of.

He rolled out of the arc onto the sidewalk, the grappling line retracting into the thin casing around his wrist and dove into the smoke. He caught Korval by the tail of his pristine suit jacket and yanked him back, slamming him against the damp brick.

Korval shrieked in a combo of surprise and fear, eyes widening at the sight of the trademark red helmet as the smoke cleared. Jason grinned behind the hood, reeled back, and cracked him hard across the face. Korval went sprawling to the sidewalk and Jason shifted to stand over him.

“Hey, buddy.” he greeted, leaning down closer. The poor excuse for a gangster was shaking with terror as he got closer, pressing back against the chipped cement of the walkway. Everyone else on the street within sight disappeared, watching from stoops and the darkness of alleyways as the lord of Crime Alley made a brief appearance.

“Please don’t kill me!” Korval begged. Blood ran in a thin stem down the side of his face from the split Jason had inflicted on his cheek. “What do you want, money? I got money, man. I’ll pay, I swear!”

Jason scoffed, grabbing Korval by the lapels and dragging him back up to his feet. The gangster swung and he dodged it easily, grabbing his arm and lashing out with his fist. It earned him a sharp and satisfying crack from Korval’s arm as it broke.

The gangster screamed and Jason threw him to the ground. He pinned him down with a knee, bringing his helmeted face down to where Korval’s was smashed into the sidewalk.

“Jasmine Sung.” he snarled, “You know her? You’re little lackeys threw her daughter down the stairs and tried some awfully shady shit when she wouldn’t pay that bullshit ‘protection’ fee I’ve been hearing about. I heard the kid tasered them; you’re goddamn lucky it wasn’t me.” he finished.

“So we’re gonna have a little quality time, and they you’re gonna forget they exist, understand Brent? Or else you’re gonna find out pretty quick what a bullet tastes like.”

The terror present on the gangster’s face increased with the use of his first name. He didn’t give Korval the chance to respond, kicking him sharply in the ribs enough to turn him onto his side. Jason layed into him for a minute or two, enough for the guy to lose a few teeth and break a few bones. He had to be an example. The bats took care of the big fish in Gotham, but didn’t have the time to prioritize the regular people, and the beating Korval was getting would keep the common crooks and criminal of Crime Alley from getting too bold for a short bit. A gangster’s pain traded for a lot of peoples’ temporary safety.

He strung a bloodied Korval from his feet to a busted streetlamp, signaling Roy and Kori to get lost from where they’d been keeping perimeter for cops and vigilantes in the background. Kori lifted off and disappeared flying down an alleyway, Roy heading the opposite direction to go switch into his civilian clothes to make it back to the safehouse. All the red attracted too much attention if he wandered around in his uniform, but there was nothing they could really do for the Tamaranean to keep her inconspicuous.

He unloaded half a clip into the guy’s hands as he hung upside down, a warning and sort of a punishment. He wouldn’t be able to handle a gun or probably even make a fist to threaten anyone with the way Jason had messed them up.

He disappeared onto the rooftops just as the police pulled up. There was a warrant out for his arrest based on the evidence the Outlaws had lead the less corrupt members of the Gotham City PD to find on a past murder of another gangster and a string of muggings for ‘debts’ that were some real made-up shit. That, and Roy had managed to dig up a massive money laundering and tax fraud steak that would have even made Oracle jealous. He’d be in prison for a while. Considering the gang wars going on between Korval’s Vipers and some of Two-Face’s men, he might not last long at all in the joint.

He stopped by Jasmine’s place to let her know the news, and tell her to take her kid and stay out of sight for about a week. She gave him a hug he barely tolerated, but let her anyway. They’d known each other when Jay was a homeless Crime Alley kid. She’d been five years older, but still told him who to stay away from to keep out of a gang and off of drugs. God knows neither of them had the means to support an addiction of any kind back then. Every once in a while she’d save his ass, and he’d get her out of trouble in return. So coming back to Gotham to help her out was something he wouldn’t try to get out of. Korval was just the start of their problems in Crime Alley before he got out of dodge and went back to Outlaw business.

He just had to keep the Bats off his trail.


	2. Wake Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares have never been merciful, but Jason copes.

Jason is broken out of a particularly vicious nightmare by something leather smacking him in the face. He bolts upright, the knife from the sheath in the front pocket of his jeans held like a lifeline in his left hand. He’s pretty sure he’s standing up, but all he can focus on is the ringing buzz in his ears and the taste of iron blood that lingers in his mouth. It takes a few seconds for the walls to shift from the dusty warehouse to the exposed brick of the safehouse.

“-ason? Jaybird, man, you with us?”

He blinked rapidly, Roy’s voice cutting through the last dredges of the nightmare. He was standing up, the laminate flooring freezing against his bare feet, staring at his two best friends with a knife in his hand.

“Jason, you need to breathe.” Koriand’r instructed firmly. Damn it, she was right. He did his best to even out his breathing, acknowledging the painful tightness in his chest that came with hyperventilating. He tried to loosen his grip on the knife to no avail. His fingers wouldn’t release; stuck locked up around the hilt of their own volition.

Kori and Roy stood behind the dingy couch he’d leapt off of, the Tamaranean slightly in front of the other vigilante. The pain lancing his chest was getting better as he breathed steadier. He went to sit down, lasting only half a second before he had to get up again. The adrenaline racing through his veins was too much to stay still. He need to fight, freak out, scream and yell and break something. Jason settled for pacing back and forth like a caged tiger, the frantic energy itching in his skin.

Roy gently crept over the back of the couch, avoiding any sudden movements as to not spook him. Goddamnit, he wasn’t a rabbit. Roy was in his civilian clothes; a black sweatshirt and a pair of worn grey jeans rolled over his red boots to make them just appear as high tops. “Can’t let go of the knife?” he ventured, tone careful but casual. Roy was annoying and a bit of an asshole, but Jason knew he would never take advantage of a situation like that to make him feel any less.

He shook his head no, trying to ignore that the rest of him was shaking like crazy. “Do you want us to take it?” Kori asked. He shook his head again, folding his arms over his chest for security but being careful of the blade. It feels like there are ants crawling under his skin and he really doesn’t need to scratch himself bloody over a damn nightmare.

“Number?” Roy asks, and Jason hesitates for a moment, almost stopping in the track of his pacing. He’d hit a groove; walking around the perimeter of the room and not touching the wall, switching directions when he felt like he had to. Honestly, it was making him feel a little better.

10 was a get away and run. Jason wasn’t even sure if he’d mentally present enough to give an answer to the number question at a true ten, but thankfully they’d never have to find out. 9 was find a room, lock the door, and destroy everything in sight and scream his head off until he lost his voice. There’d only been one of those in the time that they’d been the Outlaws and it had ended with a lot of shattered glass and a shoe through the window.

“Seven and a half.” he decided. If it was possible to tense and relax at the same time, Roy did it. Seven wasn’t as off the rails volatile as an eight, but held the possibility to get worse. Generally Jason tended to hover somewhere a one or two.

\-----

Yeesh, seven and a half wasn’t fantastic. But it was to be expected after a legendary Jason Todd nightmare. “That sucks.” Kori sympathized with a wince. She’d witnessed the nine. Had actually been the one to lock him in a room with a fair amount of glass they didn’t care about on her ship and let him get it out. She gently vaulted over the jack of the couch to join Roy, bringing her legs up and sitting criss-cross.

“Reality TV or people making stuff?” Roy called out as Jason circled behind the couch and out of his field of vision. The only reason he could hear Jay’s bare feet against the fake wood as he prowled around was all the years as Oliver’s protegee. The redhead snatched the remote for the shitty TV on the table across from the couch, flicking it on and scrolling through the garbage that was on at 3am.

“...making stuff.” Jay muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Got it.” He switched the channel to one of what seemed like the billion house-flipping shows. Roy and Kori chattered on about nothing important. Funny stories carefully avoiding Kori’s bat ex-boyfriend. The pranks he used to pull on on Oliver with Dinah. Would you ever want to dye the white streak in your hair red, Jason, cause it would look cool as hell.

Jason’s pacing slowed down as they went on. Roy would never call him on it unless he needed him to, but Jaybird was still shaking pretty badly. Not as hard as earlier, but enough to show that it could still go back up to a 7. Post nightmare hangouts never had any real substance; all distractions to keep the mind away from whatever torture it was inflicting on itself.

After another minute, Jay finally took a seat in front of the couch between Kori and Roy’s legs. He was still tensed like a live wire; ready to spring or snap but trying his best to just sit there and let the pent-up energy bleed out of him.

Kori disappeared into the bedroom for a minute. She returned with something hidden behind her back. She flopped back onto the couch bonelessly, leaning over and dropping a half-solved Rubix cube into Jason’s lap, who jumped like she’d dropped a live fish on him. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands with a tiny grin.

“My knight in shining armor.” he snarked. His fingers shifted on the cube like a man possessed, all the anxious energy focused on one task instead of just thrashing around Jason’s skull. The the only sounds in the apartment the droning of some hack about his how deadly important his kitchen backsplash was and the muted clicking as Jay shuffled the cube in an attempt either solve it or make it harder. Honestly, Roy wasn’t sure. They were both less than decent at it. But the stupid cube was actually pretty useful for when one of them got bored or a little panicked.

A few episodes in and shitty houses turned less shitty and Jason seemed like he was a little better. The knife had been put away back into its sheath in his pocket, and he’d gotten the toy solved twice over before getting stuck and just spinning it instead. Roy had had his fun needling the former bat about the fact that he’d been sleeping in jeans like a crazy person. It got him to get up and actually change into a pair of sweats to sleep in.

Man, people needed to give him more credit for how sneaky Roy could be. There was a chance that Jaybird knew what he was doing, but it was fine even if he did. It was just what they all did for each other.

He threw both of them a water bottle from the barely functional fridge on the way back before slumping into the recliner. It was Kori’s turn to take the bed, and they’d figured that it was a pretty stupid idea for Jason to sleep within knife-distance of anyone so they rotated between bed, couch, and chair. And he wouldn’t be able to sleep without at least one. None of them really could. Part of the vigilante life; Kori had her powers and Roy had a pocket knife on him 24/7. At least Jay rarely slept with guns, and when he did they were either unloaded or the safety was on and he was alone in the bedroom.

Kori disappeared into the bedroom after another hour, satisfied that Jason would be alright. Jay dragged a blanket from the floor and threw it at Roy, not moving from his strange position on the couch. For some reason he always slept with his legs thrown over the arm of the chair. Poor bastard was too lazy to put on socks but Roy didn’t care enough to go change out of his jeans despite his teasing Jay over it.

“You-”

Roy pointed a finger at him mock-sternly, dragging the woven blanket up until only his eyes and shock of red hair stuck out. “Not a word. You aren’t wearing any socks and it’s fuckin’ freezing.” he reminded. Jason snorted a laugh, snatching his own blanket from the floor next to his chair and throwing it over his legs. He let the now-solved rubix cube sit in his lap and stared up at the ceiling.

He took a good look at Jason, taking in the distance in his gaze. “Are you dissociating right now?”

“Hm.” he hummed, pressing his palms over his eyes with a groan.

That, he had some practice with himself. “C’mon dude, you know how to do this part.” he teased lightly, flicking the volume up a few notches.

“Yeah, yeah. Sights, sounds, and sensations to be grounded. Quit being such a mother hen, Roy, jeez.” he whined, curling further into the recliner. Blue eyes cracked open to watch just as someone began to tear apart a shower with a crowbar.

Crowbar, shit. Roy quickly switched the channel to one of the many baking competition shows they both liked, watching Jay from the corner of his eye. He seemed alright with having witnessed the sight of the tool being swung around. Not enough to set the former bat back up into the last few of the number scale. Didn’t that moronic contractor know that you weren’t supposed to use them like that?

He knew he was probably worrying too much, but a 7 was something to be taken seriously. God knows Jason had had enough terror inflicted on him in his life. You didn’t crawl out of your own grave without a case of PTSD. If he could help him out a little once in a while, he damn well would. As much of a bastard Oliver was, the guy had taught him that much.

His mentor’s policy on killing or not, if they ever came across the demented clown that had killed his friend, Roy would absolutely be helping to repay the freak what he was owed.

Neither of them went to sleep that night. Jay, because it would probably press play on the dream he’d just managed to wake up from, and Roy because he was borderline nocturnal. Just sat and watched garbage TV until the sun came up in the morning and Roy fell so deeply asleep that he didn’t so much as twitch when Jason threw his blanket over his legs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the comments and kudos! It still kind of feels like I don't know what I'm doing tbh, but I'm glad you guys are enjoying it!


	3. Birds Of a Feather Don't Flock Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Red Hood needs to be known to be feared; Jason realizes he can't hide forever when a certain bird spots him. But Crime Alley is his, and he intends to keep it no matter what the cost.

Jason tried, but it’s gotten too obvious to ignore. The bats were getting more active in Crime Alley. Specifically, Red Robin was poking around where he didn’t belong.

Kori was back on the ship, running around solo doing… well he doesn’t actually know what she’s doing. She texted him and Roy a selfie with a zebra that was very much not in a zoo, so all bets are off as to what she’d been up to.

But what he really wants to know is what the hell Tim is up to. Crime Alley was Jason’s, even if they thought he wasn’t around. He still had some territory that the gangs and mobsters wouldn’t touch for fear of the Red Hood. The severed heads in a duffel bag would be expected to instill that kind of fear.

Considering how wound up and vividly, insanely murderous he’d been under the Lazarus Pit’s influence, he’d done okay. Taken out the uncontrollable urge to kill and turned it against the villains of the Alley. Murders with a headcount he could track, rapists, anyone he could sniff out with ties to the Joker. Anyone who threatened the residents of his territory or encroached on it would feel the wrath of the Red Hood. Anyone who heard would know better.

Actually going after the bats was fuzzy in his mind. All scarlet rage and adrenaline-soaked fury. But he knew with certainty that he very nearly managed to kill the replacement Robin. The Red Hood couldn’t scare off a Bat; they were too curious. They’d just come right back around unless he killed them, the idiots never learned their lesson, and negative feelings aside he doesn’t know if he could take them out unless his brain left the building like it did under the pit’s influence. That aside, he just didn’t want to.

So he made sure he and Roy stayed far out of Tim’s way as they went about their business. Checking in on Jasmine and making sure Korval’s people weren’t going to go after her or her kid. Scaring off and beating the hell out of the drug lords that ran around Crime Alley to keep the overdose and addiction rate as low as they could, and trying not to think of his mom whenever he saw a heroin needle. Making sure no one went after the homeless kids or harassed them. He couldn’t help himself.

Vigilantism was his drug of choice.

From what the two of them could tell, Tim was the only one who was taking an interest in spending what was starting to become a significant amount of time in Crime Alley. Thank God.

Batman and the current, kinda tiny Robin only briefly made a round through the Alley on patrol, or just cut through when they got busy. Which they always were. Nightwing stayed in Bludhaven most of the time. It worked out well in their favor; avoiding multiple bats would be more of a nightmare than avoiding just the one.

The replacement’s newfound interest in hanging around could be the fact that the drug problem in the Alley was getting progressively worse. Jasmine’s neighbors on either side were recent junkies. It’s not as bad as when he was a kid, he doesn’t like thinking about it, but even his mom had been part of the statistic. Hell, it was how she went out; an overdose on the kitchen floor. It had dipped when he was Robin, and then again when the Red Hood had ruled in the Alley. Go away for a while and it all goes to hell in a handbasket, and the bats were too busy for the little people. Except for maybe Dick, but from the snooping Roy had done had shown that the first Robin evidently had his hands full with being a cop and vigilante in Bludhaven. That place was as fucked up as Gotham with a worse penchant for hard drugs.

He and Roy had tracked down two different suppliers and destroyed their stock. A fair amount of laced heroin had been blown to bits in a fiery inferno. Somehow, not a trigger of his. He’d never been able to accept getting beaten to death by the fucking Joker of all people, but going out in a blaze of glory wasn’t too bad of a way to die in his opinion.

So, they’d gotten a gangster put away with his lackey’s temporarily scattered, a shit ton of coke, heroin, and other drugs off the streets, a friend and her kid’s safety temporarily assured. It had been a slow one but overall it wasn’t a bad week.

“Hood.” Roy said suddenly, inching closer to the edge of the alleyway they were lounging in, “Just caught sight of a birdie down the street.”

He tensed, slinking further back into the shadows and pulling the redhead with him. Jesus, he really should try to talk him into wearing a uniform that wasn’t entirely red so they couldn’t be spotted from fucking space. Throw a cargo jacket on him and he might look like Christmas threw up, but at least it wouldn’t get them spotted by Tim.

“Red Robin?” he asked, dreading the answer. Roy just gave him a look and he knew it without words. He groaned, letting his head fall back against the wall, his helmet giving a dull thunk against the hard surface.

“Drama queen.” Roy needled, turning to scale the fire escape and head in the opposite direction to continue their own patrol. Something in him wanted to follow Red Robin; make sure no one shot him when he wasn’t looking, but he stuffed it down and followed after Roy. Stupid ‘almost murdered the guy once’ guilt.

If he was honest, Jason figured they would have been found out by then. The thing with Korval hadn’t exactly been suble or even quietly handled. How it hadn’t attracted the attention of the bats was almost amazing. It likely had something to do with the ‘snitches get stitches’ mentality of the Alley.

Arsenal and the Red Hood went their separate ways, sweeping the streets while maintaining a distance of a block or two from one another, but it didn’t last for long.

About fifteen minutes later, Jason repelled down the side of the apartment building, eyes trained on a scuffed up grey van coated in strings of graffiti that was creeping along the side of the road. “Roy, we’ve got a van following a young lady on Bend near the liquor store and Kalvin’s. You got eyes on it?”

“On the roof down the street.” he confirmed, voice crackling over Jason’s comm. “She’s heading my way. We scaring off the freaks or giving them a beating?”

“How ‘bout both?” he proposed. Jay dropped down onto the lid of a dumpster in the alleyway without breaking his gaze. He could practically hear Roy grinning through the line. “Both. Both is good.”

They came up with one of the Outlaws’s famous fifteen second plans, Roy positioning himself with an arrow nocked and aimed at the van on top of the liquor store and Jason walking out into full view on the sidewalk.

He walked casually but quickly up to the young woman before stopping at her side and keeping pace. She was around his age actually, if not a year or two younger, with dark brown skin and her hair done back in braids. A messenger bag was over her shoulder, her keys taken out and clenched in between her fingers like Wolverine’s claws. Dark eyes looking him up and down in a very neutral manner but he could tell she was glad to see him rather than scared.

“Mind if I walk with you, miss?” he asked politely, jerking his chin in the direction of the van that had come to a dead stop two shops behind them. “Unwanted company’s following.” He knew the way he was handling the situation was dangerous, but bats be damned a message had to be sent that the lowlifes of Crime Alley better watch their backs.

“Not a bit, Red.” she said smoothly, hooking her arm tightly with his. Jason could feel her shaking slightly; the woman was terrified. He would be too, if he’d been in her position.

He unholstered his handgun with his free hand, holding it up for the van to see and flicking the safety off. The van stayed put until he bit out a quick warning to the girl and fired into the flickering streetlight above the vehicle. It exploded in a hail of shattered glass and sparks, showering the van as the driver hit reverse and floored it in an escape. The van turned with a squeal of its tires and roared back down the way it had come.

Just because he knew the archer was up there, Jason could see the faint movement of Roy tracking the car on the rooftops. They would catch up with them later if they had the time; but Roy would probably end up getting sidetracked with some other form of criminal activity before they had the chance. The Alley was running them ragged tonight. He’d swear every criminal was an insomniac.

People on the sidewalk parted like the red sea in their wake, giving the pair at least a three-foot berth out of wariness as they walked under the light of flickering street lamps and the occasional run-down shop.

She revealed her name was Maya, and that she was a student at Gotham Community College. Her girlfriend was supposed to drive her home but her car broke down, so she decided to walk. She let him inspect the purple switchblade she kept in the pocket of her ripped jeans, and damn was it pretty. The hilt was some kind of marbled plastic over metal with grooves to ensure the fingers of whoever was holding it fit perfectly. He handed it back to her and she tucked it back out of sight. Jason still held onto his gun though, keeping it resting in his hand at his side where it was clearly visible as a warning and a message to anyone who caught sight of it. And it would be pretty damn hard not to.

They walked arm in arm to her apartment building, where she thanked him and then promptly ran up the steps, braids bouncing against her back. She shut the door behind her and Jason took a seat on the stoop, stretching out the muscles in his legs and shoulders as to not get stiff in case they had to do any chasing that night (it would be stranger if they didn’t, no one stood still when they got caught red-handed).

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up at the eerie feeling of being watched, an instinct that he’d learned had never left from his time as a homeless kid. Jason tilted his head back and scanned the structures across the street, finely picking over the shadows.

There, on the fire escape of a ramshackle brick building, was Red Robin. Tim was leaning against the safety railing, leg crossed over leg comfortably, staring right at him through his domino.

The guy was taller. Jason’s brain short-circuited for a minute, Talia’s conditioning and the work she’d done to him to kill the bats in the back of his mind without the force behind the venom of the insanity instilled by his dip in the Lazarus Pit. It wasn’t even really coherent thought; just conflicting feelings and if he was honest, a little bit of guilt. He’d gotten pretty fucking close to offing the kid.

“Arsenal.” he said quietly, acutely aware that Tim couldn’t see his mouth moving beneath the helmet, “I’ve got a bird. Corner of Bend and Brickstone, fire escape of a red brick housing structure.” Jason could hear the stress in his own voice but didn’t care enough to hide it. It was Roy, and it had been a long night.

“Shit, of fucking course.” the archer muttered angrily, the heat absent behind the words with fatigue. It was running on three in the morning, and they’d had three late nights in a row and investigation work in the afternoons.

“You alright?” he asked. Jay considered. There was genuine surprise on his part at how not actively freaking out he was. “Manageable, like a three-and-a-half. But we’re about to have a lot of fuckin’ problems if he tells the big bat, or even Nightwing. God knows he’d haul his stupid ass back here from Bludhaven to preach at us.” he mumbled.

So, in a less than intelligent move, he stood up, backed a good few feet away, and gestured a hand halfheartedly at the empty stoop for Tim to join him. He sure as shit didn’t want to go up there with the kid and it was better than being stalked. Even in the dark, the wariness was visible at the invitation. Tim hesitated for a moment. Mind made up, he took the remaining flights down the fire escape and leapt off, rolling onto the cracked pavement of the sidewalk into a standing position.

Red Robin crept across the empty street and stopped at the chipped stairs to Maya’s apartment building. His weight was shifted for a fight, like he expected the Red Hood to just lose it and start shooting. In a complete dumbass move, Jason realized he was still holding on to one of his handguns. He’d almost forgotten; it just felt like part of his arm at that point. He casually slipped the firearm back into the holster on his thigh and Tim relaxed marginally.

“You don’t have to stand like that, I’m not tryin’ to kill you anymore.” Jason said bluntly, not seeing the point in sugarcoating it. He leaned back against the wall, folding his arms over his chest in what was a position that honestly just made him feel better. He’d rather chew glass than have this particular conversation, but word that the Red Hood was back running around Gotham would be an absolute shitshow if Tim decided to spread it to the other bats and birds.

Tim eased up, still not sitting down but Jason understood given the way they’d interacted before. Apparently trying to murder someone didn’t bode well for a first impression, who knew?

“Can you blame me?” he joked, cocking an eyebrow beneath the black domino mask on his face. Joked. Alright, so the guy was crazier than he was. Got it.

“Not really. Sorry about that, by the way.”

Tim looked… confused. Probably because manic, insane, continuously homicidal Jason wasn’t talking. The kid had never met him when he had his head on straight, just when he was batshit insane. Ha, batshit.

“What are you doing back in Gotham, Hood?” he demanded, voice low but tone light. Jason huffed, crossing his arms tighter across his chest. “Not that it’s any of your goddamn business, but I’m just keeping my affairs in order. Still got a lot of turf around here.”

“B would want to talk to you.” The injured baby-bird voice pissed him off like nothing else. Jason visibly bristled, and Tim instantly knew his mistake.

Rage itched under his skin like wildfire, bubbling up and spilling over. “B also wants me locked up in Arkham, with the motherfucker who killed me. He doesn’t get to want anything.” Jason snapped, tone venomous.

His replacement was quick to hold up his hands in mock-surrender. “Not the whole story, Hood. You seem… better, though.” he admitted.

Jason couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing, putting his hands on his hips and shaking his head in disbelief. “What’re you, my shrink? Do yourself a favor and can it, Birdie.” he chuckled darkly, “I don’t wanna hear it.”

Tim frowned, but didn’t take the bait. Shame, he could feel one hell of an argument brewing, and even if he didn’t want the kid dead he still didn’t fucking like him. He wasn’t past knocking the guy on his ass if he pissed him off enough, and could tell that the feeling was mutual.

Red Robin copied Jason and leaned back against the building on the other side of the narrow stoop. “You aren’t killing people.” he explained tersely, “I wouldn’t have known you were around here if you hadn’t been so visible walking that girl home. I’m guessing that warehouse explosion last week was you and your buddies?”

Jason shrugged, the tension from the mention of Bruce bleeding away slightly as they moved past it. Figures that Tim would deduce that he wasn’t alone. That era of robin had apparently been the smart one. That’s what he got for joining a team. “That’s ‘cause I haven’t had to kill anyone.” he answered flatly, “And yeah, that was us. Shit-ton of drugs taken care of and a dealer stalled for now. You’re welcome.”

The replacement made an affirmative noise in his throat, which was somehow incredibly irritating. The silence stretched until it was awkward and Tim broke it. “I get that you’re hiding out from Batman, and… well all of us. But let me know if you guys need a hand.” he offered casually, turning to leave.

Jason scoffed, cocking an eyebrow at him. “The big bat is gonna just be fine with one of his birds working with the Red Hood?” he asked incredulously. The answer couldn’t be clearer if it screamed at them.

Bruce would end up hunting Jason through Gotham like some kind of very rich and very obsessive bloodhound, trying to talk feelings and yell at him and it if really got down to it throw him in the asylum. He’d figured out a while ago that Bruce just didn’t know what to do when it came to his wayward son. And the stupid bastard stubbornly refused to let the answer be nothing.

Tim looked at him with one of the coldest bitch-faces he’s seen. “If he finds out, B can deal with it.” He gave Jason a two-fingered wave and slipped into the alleyway. He could hear the metallic thump as the kid hopped up onto the dumpster, jumping again to grab the bottom of the fire escape and swing himself up.

The second he disappeared Jason’s heart finally slowed down. The amount of adrenaline pumping through him felt like when he was chasing down criminals. It was almost embarrassing how freaked out the bat family got him.

The itch under his skin was still there, like he needed to start a brawl with some thugs or tear his hair out to get the restless energy to go away. He settled for scaling a different fire escape a good distance down the street and ranting with Roy as they resumed their patrol.

Thankfully, Red Robin didn’t make any more appearances. Jason honestly didn’t know if he could handle it if he did. At least it wasn’t Dick, or god forbid the Batman himself. That, he definetly wouldn’t be able to handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm now out of high school and have never had this kind of schedule in my life, so posting got a bit weird. I had to take care of some continuing issues with college registration as well (yaaaaaaaay :/), so sorry for the late update!  
> -also weird bit, this was delayed until the afternoon because i got 24 calls from telemarketers and had to fix it.


	4. Mending and Meddling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim makes decisions, and tries his hardest to make them good ones. But it's never easy with family involved.

If there’s one thing that Timothy Drake prides himself on, it’s his ability to plan. He can plot and scheme at the level of super villains, able to turn on his heel to adapt when there’s a stone thrown into his path. Tim had always been quick on his feet, and years as a vigilante had only sharpened the instinct.

But Jason Todd was a big fucking stone. The Red Hood coming back to Gotham was a mountain, and Time didn’t really know what to do with the information. He’d had a few plans in case something like this happened, but they didn’t seem feasible. Not anymore.

The last few times Jason had come back to Gotham, he’d tried to kill them. Nearly succeeded with the attempt on him and Bruce’s brat. They didn’t know the full story, other than the details of Jason’s death and horrific realization that he’d dug himself out of his own grave, but Jason had tried so hard to throw a wrench into their lives.

Whatever had happened outside of what they were aware of had made him incredibly unstable. Violent and wild with a hair trigger to a full-blown freakout. But from what Tim could tell, that wasn’t the person he’d just met.

He’d been expecting hatred. Rage. Insults or violence or the raw anger that he’d seen the last time he encountered the wayward bat. The only thing that had been on brand was the pistol he forgot to re-holster and the way he bristled like a pissed-off alley cat at the mention of Bruce.

Arsenal was lurking around as well. They were two pieces of a matched set these days; it was good that Jason had found people. Tim had seen the flash of cherry red going from one rooftop to the next before he’d hung around the fire escape watching Jason escort the rattled woman to her apartment. The Outlaws were still working with each other, then.

As much as he didn’t understand how it had happened, Jason seemed stable. Maybe he’d just burned himself out? Traces of that anger were still there, but he seemed to genuinely be doing okay. Tim sat on the edge of a rooftop, not wanting to go back to the cave with the conflict banging around in his head.

He could tell Bruce, but his instincts told him to keep it to himself. Logically, it would only make the problems between the two worse. Jason had gotten decently upset just at the prospect of Bruce being interested in contacting him.

But on the other hand, B really loved him. Dick always said that a part of Bruce had died when he had to bury Jason, and Tim could give him that part back. But as much as it sucked, it wasn’t his part to give.

B could be a lot, and it was no secret that he disapproved of the way Jason tackled being a vigilante. If he showed up on Jason’s turf and gave him a lecture on morals before trying to drag him back to a place filled with the family he’d thrown off, he didn’t think Jason would continue being stable for it. None of them knew what had happened to make him okay; meaning they didn’t know exactly what could set him off.

Tim braced himself slightly as the wind picked up, not too keen on getting knocked off his perch thirty stories up. His eyes landed on two figures six buildings over. Speak of the devil. He wasn’t sure what the hell they were doing this close to downtown, but two Outlaws were staring in his direction.

He was confused as to why the hell they were around until he realized, ‘Oh… they must’ve followed whatever Arsenal had been tailing’. Jason lifted his hand in a two-fingered salute before stepping forward off the building and plummeting into the gap. Tim’s heart seized until he swung up onto the building across the way as the grapple disengaged, pulling a shoulder-roll and springing up to stand.

Arsenal followed suit. The scarlet-clad figure took a running start and leapt off the edge. The only way that he could get the kind of height he got as his grapple disengaged at the other side of his arc was to dip way lower than Jason had. Arsenal executed a loose backflip and landed in a three point crouch.

They were doing tricks. The guy that had nearly killed him was doing grappling tricks with his friend. What the fuck.

Yeah... Bruce wasn’t going to find out. Not from Tim, at least. Jason looked happy. Everyone in the manor knew that Bruce had loved Jason like his own son, and that even with how severely they disagreed on some pretty important shit, Bruce still really loved him. A bad encounter would ruin any chance at ever getting the stray bird back in the nest. So they had to be patient.

Tim leapt off the edge of his perch, using his cape to glide between rooftops. Man, he loved that thing so much. Gliding was amazing; the wind whipping his hair and the feeling of the drop below him sent his heart flying.

He landed on a rooftop one away from where the two other vigilantes were acting like overexcited 14-year-olds (or like Dick) and whistled. It was eerie how in sync the action was as their heads snapped to stare at him, twin gazes behind a mask and a hood. The sight of the Red Hood sent his heart thrumming with anxiety. Bad memories, but he wanted to believe that things could change. He'd be wary just because it would be incredibly stupid not to

Tim plucked the comm from his ear, holding it up between two fingers for both of them to see. They probably couldn’t; the thing was the size of a dime and aside from the glow of lights from the city, it was pitch black. He bent at the waist and set the earpiece carefully on the stone runner of the roof’s edge. Tim bounded away in the opposite direction, leaping to the next rooftop to continue his patrol.

The ball was in Jason’s court now; it was his turn to decide what to do with it. Tim just hoped he wouldn’t decide he didn't want to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This chapter is short, only around 1k words, because I felt like two chapters really needed a bridge to make them connect. It was written during some anxiety-induced insomnia hours. Anxiety's really been rearing its head lately, so I've been using writing as a coping mechanism, and I feel like a lot more of me is in these chapters. Thank you for the comments, I love hearing from you guys! I'll be uploading a longer chapter soon.


	5. Tiny Pieces and Big Pictures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason doesn't know how to process his old family anymore, social skills rusted like a saw left out in the rain when anything got past surface deep. So he does what he does best; spend time with his best friend and over-analyze.

Jason and Roy sat at either end of the wobbly kitchen table of the safehouse. Bits of body armor and weaponry were strewn across the floor around them in a messy circle as they fiddled with the pieces of Tim’s comm.

He’d watched Roy take it apart and put it back together three separate times, tiny delicate pieces that they would be screwed without if they decided to use it grouped into careful piles in front of him. Currently, the redhead was putting it back together for the fourth (and possibly final) time; fitting impossibly small pieces of technology back together again with the finesse of someone who could really make a living at it. As much as he sucked shit solving the community Rubix’s cube, Roy worked pretty damn fast and never seemed to mess up a step or forget one.

“This thing is so fucking cool.” he muttered under his breath. Roy carefully clicked the last piece of the shell back into place before he set it back on the table. Jason checked one more time on his laptop; the comm still had still no tracking signal emitting from it. He relayed it back to Roy, who was so preoccupied with his notes that Jason wasn’t sure if he was even aware Jay had opened his mouth at all.

Since the sun had come up a few hours ago, all the bats were busy with their civilian lives, so the risk of anyone realizing their tech was being messed around with. That is, if his replacement hadn’t already snitched.

They’d waited for the line to go dead as the patrols ended, and then another hour when the last one signed off in case Barbara was still lurking. It could be called paranoid, or it could be called careful. Dealer’s choice.

Roy and Jason had sketched out drawings of every single microscopic piece of the earpiece and how they fit together. A smear of pen ink decorated the archer’s cheekbone, the edge of his hand turned grey from rubbing against the paper as he drew. The eternal curse of the left-handed.

“Tim must’ve taken out Bruce’s tracker.” Jason realized, cracking his jaw with a yawn, “Don’t know why; everybody knows he’s got trackers in all the suits.”

Roy cocked an eyebrow at him in disbelief. “Seriously?”

Jason shrugged, standing up from the table and rolling the tension from his stiff shoulders. He pushed the chair in with his foot. “It’s not that weird. I took out my tracker, and then I got captured and murdered.” he said bluntly, cracking his spine with a few sharp pops.

“Fair point.” Roy conceded. He snatched his hat off, scrubbing a hand through his hair to mess it up before shaking it out. Half to wake himself up, and half because he was correct in assuming that he had one wicked case of hat hair. “We don’t have any more urgent work right now.”

“You wanna get some sleep?” he mumbled. Roy looked him up and down before rising from his chair. He patted a half-asleep Jason on the shoulder before sliding past him to get to the barely-functioning fridge. He grabbed a Redbull and opened it with a hiss that sharpened Jason’s world a bit with the sound, downing a third of it in one go.

“Can’t. Brain’s not tired. And we gotta talk about what we’re doing with that thing, Jay.” he said, ruining the seriousness by flailing a hand at the earpiece laying abandoned on the table. Roy staggered over to the couch and dropped into the corner of it, tucking up his feet and cradling the can of Redbull to his chest like a football.

“You do know you have a bed, right?” he called. Roy raised a hand up for Jason to see over the back of the couch, giving him the finger. “Fuck off, stop changing the subject.” he shot back.

Jay knew they had to talk about it, but it doesn’t mean he wanted to. It’s all mixed up in his head, and he had to be painstaking careful with picking out the Al Ghul’s conditioning from what was reality. They’d implanted so much shit in his head to turn him against the bats, or really just anything connected to Batman. It felt almost impossible to figure out what was influenced by trauma and conditioning, and what was independently him. Like they’d thrown his brain in the blender with a side of red-hot hatred and hit puree.

“I don’t like it,” he said bitterly, vaulting over the back of the couch to sit beside his friend and ignoring how whiny he sounded. “I really don’t like it… but it’s a resource. We don’t really do shit that requires backup.”

“Doesn’t mean we’ll never need it.” Roy muttered, almost like an apology. He shifts until he finds a comfortable position; uncurling his legs and draping them across Jason’s lap as he stretched out like a sleepy cat.

“I know, but it is a fucking bad idea.” he insisted.

Roy hums in agreement. “So, what’s the play, Jay?”

He thinks carefully before he says anything, because this wasn’t something to take back later. Roy was right; they hadn’t needed anyone but the Outlaws in a long time, but as much as he loathed to admit it, that didn’t mean they never would.

His thoughts were swirling in circles like a lazy river, but he couldn’t get one increasingly morbid one out of his head. If they got rid of the comm and ended up in a situation where they actually needed it, one of them could end up dead. And it would be his fault. Just the thought of it made his mouth go dry with terror.

Roy, laying riddled with bullet holes in an expanding puddle of crimson, sightless blue eyes staring at nothing like a dead fish. Jason possibly not staying dead and having to go through being buried alive again; suffocating alone and in the darkness under six feet of earth. He’d take a bullet for Roy, and was pretty certain it went both ways. Both of them could end up dead if they were stupid or really unlucky.

“We don’t use it, but we keep it for emergencies.” he decided, watching Roy’s reaction. He picked up the remote and tossed it to Roy who caught it without looking.

“Sounds good.” the archer mumbled, caught between asleep and awake. Neither of them had gotten a wink of sleep in what was edging up to 30 hours, but somehow he still managed to have bedhead. The television fuzzed to life with morning cartoons and they both stared bleary-eyed at the screen. It made him feel kind’ve stupid that they were two grown men watching Spongebob at 6 in the morning, but he didn’t particularly care enough to do anything about it. “It’s a good idea to keep it. Better safe than sorry.” Roy added.

Silence stretched as light bled in through the windows, painting the room in pale yellow twilight. It occurs to him in the back of his mind that they should have turned out the lights. Being borderline nocturnal had its perks; Gotham was kind of beautiful in the sunrise.

With nothing to do but sit there until he felt like he had powered down enough to sleep, it kept coming back to him that Jason had no idea what they were doing. He realized a while ago that he needed to stay away from the bats, for everyone’s sake, yet one of their comms was sitting on the kitchen table like a ticking time bomb. A tiny piece of plastic and wires that meant way more than that. It meant that they were getting too close.

Hell, Tim had already found him. Whatever road he was going down wasn’t the one he wanted to be on, and Jason was painfully aware of it, but he’d grown up as an Alley rat and wasn’t about to abandon it now. Gotham was in his blood, and as much as he hated it, he couldn’t bring himself to leave it.

And damn, did he hate it. Too many memories, and even the good ones were twisted into snarled knots into his head. It’s been years, and he still can’t get within a hundred feet of the cemetery without the taste of grave dirt invading his mouth, sparks of phantom pain shooting through his fingers from breaking apart his coffin rearing up in protest. He can’t even visit Catherine.

Everything with the bats was so thoroughly twisted in his head that he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to straighten it out. The years of never measuring up, feeling so inferior to an older brother who avoided him like the plague, being slammed in the media because Bruce Wayne’s new kid was a loudmouth from Crime Alley. Waiting for help to save him from his own stupid mistakes. He didn’t blame Bruce for being too late… just like he’d told Roy, he’d taken the tracker out of his suit and trusted Sheila. Jason had kept secrets until they wrapped themselves around his neck killed him.

But it didn’t mean he didn’t still rage like a rabid tiger. Apparently it didn’t matter when your charge was beaten half to death and blown up; Bruce never made any changes. The man just got another Robin and kept with the same routine. No improved defenses, no being more careful with the kid running around beside him. Like they were just made to be destroyed and replaced with some other plucky tween with nowhere to go.

Jason was self-aware enough to know that some of that might have been Talia and Ra’s voices whispering venom in his head. Maybe a little more than just some, but it was part of the base of their conditioning. Bruce had just thrown another Robin into line after Jason with no extra precautions to protect him like real body armor or even just being more careful. Like they were dispensable. It didn’t matter that Bruce had told him the opposite a thousand times before, usually after Jason had managed to get himself hurt again or had done something more reckless than usual. It felt like shit.

And the small fact that he’d tried to kill most of them in a Lazarus-induced rage. He hadn’t been completely in his right mind; all his memories from then were blurred around the edges and tinged with the same sickly neon green as the pit. But it didn’t mean it never happened. There was no getting past something like that, family angst aside.

And there was no getting past their moral differences. Jason was fine with the blood on his hands, wore it like a second skin really, and he knew that eventually he would take somebody out again. The next time the Joker broke out of Arkham, Jason would be putting a bullet through the deranged clown’s skull. Throwing the big bads in Arkham over and over again didn’t work, it never had; the system was too broken to work with. And Bruce would never condone the way he worked.

He’d keep the comm, but was resolved only use it if he thought they were going to completely lose whatever they’d gotten into. Losing meant maybe a stitch or two or possibly having to scrub their own blood out of their outfits in the sink before the next patrol. Losing badly meant losing their lives. Jason was not prepared to risk one of the few people he really cared about in the world because of his personal issues.

He needed to text Kori back. Jesus Christ, he really missed her.

Roy was out cold, his head tucked against his shoulder like a sleeping bird. He’d had the forethought to put his half-empty can on the floor when he started to feel himself knocking out.

The archer’s long legs were still thrown across Jason’s lap, pinning him in place unless he wanted to try moving them. Jay found he didn’t mind; there had been a lot of nights where he stumbled home so tired he could hardly see straight and just threw himself into bed or whatever horizontal surface he saw first. So sleeping in tactical pants, boots, and his undershirt was something that didn’t particularly bother him. Kori and Roy had teased him mercilessly the one time he hadn’t even bothered to take off his helmet before he fell asleep face down on the floor. It was still his contact picture in Koriand’r’s phone.

As long as he kept boundaries, he would be okay. Jason had to keep reminding himself that it was okay; no matter how close his safehouses were his and it was going to stay that way. Jay wasn’t ashamed to admit that he was territorial, he needed to be able to retreat back into somewhere safe, and it wouldn’t feel safe anymore if the bats knew where he was. He didn’t think they would hurt him or anything like that unless provoked, but it didn’t matter. It was where they slept, for Christ’s sake. And yeah, he knew that it was a little weird, but so was internally monologuing to himself at 6am and aside from being witty he had the people skills of a dead cactus, so he was pretty sure the universe would forgive him for not inviting everybody over for went- ballistic-and tried-to-kill-my-family dinner.

The Bats didn’t know that he had a number system for how stable or panicked he felt. Didn’t know that he woke up from nightmares feeling like he was an earthquake about to shake to pieces and shatter like glass, scared to death like there was nothing that could put him back together again if he slipped far enough. The fear that he was two steps from losing control even though he couldn’t think of anything that he would send him over the edge but the Joker coming at him with a crowbar, that sadistic smile plastered on his face like someone had surgically implanted it there.

But he didn’t know if something else could make him lose himself. And if he had his way, he would never find out. It protected everyone involved, and it protected him too. Jason bit his nails, working his teeth on keratin until his fingers were close to bleeding. The weight of Roy’s legs across his was helping to keep him grounded, but he kept thinking of every single thing that could go wrong in technicolor. But he’d risk it if he had to if it came down to keeping his team alive.

He’d risk it in a heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remaking my Red Hood cosplay, and have decided that his torso armor is fundamentally stupid. Cosplaying the newest version too as an alternate. Love not having to wear a wig!


	6. Incoming Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason makes a choice, and the bats rush to help before it's too late.

Tim winced as his earpiece fuzzed with static. Strange, he’d gotten a new one after handing his off to Jason. Todd hadn’t used it in the week since, and Tim had all but given up hope on the wayward bird ever deciding to. Until his voice crackled over the comm in his ear.

“-injured. I repeat, this is Red Hood to the Bats requesting immediate backup. Fuck!” The line of Bruce’s mouth hardened as a screech of metal grinding and a series of gunshots sounded over the line. A male voice yelled something to Jason that didn’t come through, probably Roy, and he barked back that he was ‘working on it’.

It feels like a suckerpunch to the gut of just how panicked Jason sounded. Jason Todd was cocky, arrogant sometimes, but never that frantic. It meant that whatever had busted down the brick wall he’d built between them enough to actually call was bad.

Oh shit. It was the moment he’d been dreading; Bruce finding out that Jason was in Gotham. The confusion was evident on his face of how the hell Jay had gotten their frequency, with the shock of hearing his wayward son’s voice again. But it disappeared for something more serious as the sound of Jason’s voice crackled back over the line.

“Robotic animals in Crime Alley near the docks. Outlaws are currently only two, spread thin, and fighting injured. Copy?” Jay was shouting to be heard over the racket of gunshots and explosions in the background. What the hell had he gotten himself into?

“We read you, Hood.” Tim replied, turning on his heel and running back towards the Batmobile with the other two hot on his heels. Bruce had moved the second Tim had, Damian one step behind. “How outnumbered are you?” he demanded.

Another series of shots and yelling back and forth between Jason and Roy. A tinny roar sounded over the line followed quickly by a loud crash and another rapid succession of gunshots that made Tim’s ears ring. In the back of his mind he wondered how in the world Jason hadn’t deaf with the exposure to the level of noise firearms produced.

“We started fighting 20 and they ain’t goin’ down easy. I think a few more came out to play; they were released from a warehouse on 71st, chipped green with a gravel roof. We need help with containment and civilians,” he confirmed rapidly, alley accent bleeding through, “They’re attacking anything with a pulse and Arsenal’s bow ‘s doing shit nothing aside from explosive arrows. So if you’re comin’ to party, don’t pack light.”

An explosion boomed through the comm and Tim winced at the volume, half tempted to take out the earpiece and throw it as far from him as possible but thinking better of it. There were a few moments of relative peace before the gunshots and blasts started anew. “Fair warning, one of ‘em just blew up unprompted.” Jason panted, “Get here fast.” Static sounded him signing off the comm just as they slid into the sleek vehicle.

Robin slid into the front seat as Red Robin jumped into the back, the car letting out a loud rumble as the tires squealed against the asphalt. That roared out of the alley as Dick’s worried voice broadcasted over the comms.

“When the hell did he come back to Gotham?” Grayson shrilled in his ear. “Seriously-”

“Not the time, Nightwing.” Bruce snapped, “Red Robin, Robin, and Batman ETA 3 minutes.”

“Nightwing ETA two minutes.” Nightwing confirmed, voice tight with how upset he was but snapping back to business at his callsign. Man, Dick was going to be new levels of pissed when he found out that Tim had known all along and kept it from them. Batman more so. He’d do anything not to have that particular conversation and its aftermath, but there was no avoiding it. He’d seen the look Bruce shot at him when Tim didn’t seen surprised at Jason’s voice on their line. Tim was screwed.

“Oracle to bats.” Not much rattled her, but Tim could hear her nerves in the tone of her voice. “Arsenal’s down with a broken leg. They’re fighting on the defensive from the back of Hood’s motorcycle. They’re making pretty tight circles, so you should still see them on arrival.”

“We hear you.” Bruce said lowly. His fingers were wrapped around the wheel like he was trying to choke the life from it. If he didn’t have firsthand experience with Bruce’s unearthly good driving skills, he’d be convinced it was their time to die with the speeds the Batmobile was hitting.

Bruce was worried, an expression they rarely saw when he was wearing the cowl. Tim could count on one hand the amount of times he’s heard him sound like that when he wasn’t Bruce but Batman. Tim didn’t blame him.

For a second he feels bad for not telling Bruce his wayward son was back in Gotham. And then he doesn’t, because he barely knew Jason, but it was glaringly obvious that if Bruce (or maybe even just Dick) tried to get close to him he’d get even further away. Possibly out of Gotham all together. He’d run until the bats left him alone or until he got annoyed enough to lash out and make them.

Tim opened his mouth to ask their ETA when Roy shot past on Jason’s motorcycle. He was driving at speeds that would get him pulled over on a freeway and cheered at a racetrack, but the reason was evident a second later.

A sleek, silver robotic cheetah was hot on his heels. A set of deep claw marks was torn down his the archer’s back, half-dried blood tacky on his tunic. It must have tagged him before he got on the bike, because judging on the fact that it was twice the size of a normal cheetah and Roy was going what looked like 80 or 90 miles an hour, the robotic big cat would have knocked him clean off the vehicle if it so much as touched him.

He raced out of sight down the straightaway, coming back into view as the batmobile drifted around the corner. It looked like Arsenal and Red Hood had hastily attempted to split the broken leg with two steel arrows either side of his calf and a stretch of grappling wire. The points of the arrows faced downwards, an inch from being flush with the soles of his boots. Smart, but it wouldn’t hold fighting.

The archer tore down the street, leading the big cat along past buildings claimed by robotic spiders the size of smart-cars. Tim realized the strategy a second before Jason swung through the air. A ticking grenade dropped from his hand just as his grapple line caught the street light on the other side. It detonated right in the robo-cheetah’s face, scraps flying as its head exploded into smoking shards of twisted metal. The rest of the body crashed to the ground like a puppet with cut strings, tumbling a good distance with the speed it had been going as it’s control center was destroyed.

Jason swung off the street light, rolling and springing onto his feet with the momentum before unleashing a burst of gunfire at the nearest spider. Babs hadn’t been kidding, they were fighting on the defensive. More like fighting for their lives. Another robo-beast was already giving chase to Roy; a massive black-metal grizzly lumbering after the archer.

They jumped out of the batmobile and into the fray, Damian and Bruce targeting a cluster of four spiders while Tim ran to help Jason with the oversized wolf that had taken an interest in him. He grabbed a bolas from his belt and flung it at the robotic canine’s front legs. It wrapped around the shins and let out a high whine as it electrocuted the thing, bringing it down to it’s side as Red Hood unloaded a full clip through its glowing eye. Arsenal roared past a second time, Nightwing steering now as the archer unloaded explosive arrow after explosive arrow into the crowd of now three robotic bears pursuing them. Roy must have picked him up down the street when he raced out of sight.

Green Arrow hadn’t been kidding when he used to brag about his sidekick’s legendary aim. A duo of explosive arrows pierces the leading grizzly’s eyes one after the other, detonating in two explosions and sending bear-shrapnel into the two companions. It punches tiny holes like bullets into the plating on their sides but doesn’t do much to slow either one down. The original bear has been reduced to a smoking torso twitching on the cracked asphalt, most of the head blown apart.

Red Hood manages to take one of the spiders down running across the street, scooping up something that Arsenal dropped for him, pressing a button on it, and pitching it hard towards the two spiders running towards them.

God, if he didn’t have a fear of spiders before, he sure did now. He grabs another set of bolases from his belt and sends them at the spiders. It doesn’t do much to slow them down as they have considerably more legs than just two or four, but it’s enough to make sure they stay near one another as the device Jason threw bursts.

Thick acid sprays onto both spiders, and they let out a duo of horrific, metallic screams as the liquid makes contact with the metal of their bodies. It eats away at the frames until they stop moving all together, legs curled up like real living spiders. Tim throws a batarang into the exposed wiring on each to make sure they won’t be getting back up.

Cass shows up at some point and It takes a half hour for all seven of them to eliminate what turns out to be 34 robotic animals in total. He had no idea how the two Outlaws had managed to take out seven by themselves; the second you engaged one at least two more were right on top of you. And a few of them just shorted out and blew up.

Nightwing and Arsenal were taking the bike around a quick sweep around the surrounding area to make sure none of the freaky robotic animals got away. They’d killed two dock workers before the Outlaws had shown up, the rest hid in crates and empty shipping containers. A few were pretty hurt but considering they’d managed to scratch up trained vigilantes and break Roy’s leg then it was kind of incredible that the damage wasn’t way worse.

Jason takes a seat on the curb, shells off his blood-smeared jacket, and just kind’ve… lies there? If he didn’t know better, he’d think that the guy had just fallen asleep on the sidewalk. His pants had a tear in the thigh where a robo-wolf’s teeth had just barely clipped him. It hadn’t managed to fully grab him but it was a fairly substantial cut. Instead of taking care of it, Jason just throws an arm over the eyes of his helmet.

He felt Bruce looming behind him before he heard him. “Hood, we need to talk.”

Jason groaned from his position on the floor, sliding his arm away and tilting his head to look at Bruce. “We don’t need to do shit, B.” he said flatly, “Thanks for the assist. You bats can scram if you want; cops are gonna show soon.”

Nightwing chose that moment to drive through the alley and park a few feet away, Cassandra popping up on the rooftop across the way. Jason was back to his feet the instant he saw Roy. There was a slight offness in his step from his cut leg as he moved past them, ignoring Batman and Robin entirely in favor of helping Arsenal off the motorcycle.

Roy looked horrible. His light skin was unnaturally pale as Jason looped one of Roy’s arms across his shoulders to help pull him to his feet. They carefully got him off the bike while Dick held it steady, and the archer refused to touch his injured foot to the floor.

Jason swore as he took in the extent of the damage. A shard of curved metal was sticking out of his leg, deep like it went to bone. There were deep marks on the other side as well. One of the robotic beasts must have gotten Roy’s leg in its mouth and bitten down to crack the bone; Tim was pretty sure the piece of steel that hadn’t been removed was supposed to be a tooth. The injured limb had been hastily wrapped but the bandages were soaked crimson. Between the claw marks up his back and punctured leg, Tim was starting to get worried about blood loss.

“Christ, Roy, how the hell did you manage to ride for this long?”

The archer shrugged, leaning his weight onto Jason and sagging slightly. “Adrenaline is one hell of a drug.” he answered, his voice shaking with pain.

“Hood, he needs medical attention; taking him on the bike isn’t a good idea.” Bruce said firmly. Jason bristled like an angry cat. “No shit.” he snapped, venom in his voice, “Never would have guessed.”

“Let us give you guys a lift.” Dick practically begged. Tim could hear it in his voice; he was terrified of his brother slipping through his fingers again.

“Don’t have to, Red.” Roy insisted. Tim could hear the effort he was putting in to keep his voice even, “I’m not gonna pass out.”

“Says the man bleeding all over me.” Jason shot back fondly. Wow, he think didn’t Jason actually had it in him to make friends, but the Outlaws were closer than he thought. “Shut up.”

Nightwing moved to take Roy’s other arm and the archer sneered at him, eyes wild like a coyote. It stopped Dick in his tracks, which was a rare feet. “If you’re zen with it, Hood.” he said quietly, not taking his outright poisonous gaze from Nightwing’s face as he offered Jason an out.

“Not much of a choice.” Jason shifted Roy over to Dick with a care Tim hadn’t seen him display before. The red-head winced as the slashes on his back pulled with the movement but didn’t put up any more hostility. He just gritted his teeth against the pain and slung an arm over Dick's shoulders to keep himself upright, eyeing the smear of his blood painted on the arm of Jason's jacket.

Damian had stayed quiet for once, sidling closer and closer to Dick to be ready in case Jason freaked out. The kid didn’t trust the Red Hood at all, much less the guy behind the mask, but seemed more at ease in his presence than before. Tim would never say it to his face, but Damian was intuitive as hell. He would be shocked if he hadn’t picked up on the massive difference in the Jason that had nearly killed both of them and the one standing in front of them now.

Jason backed up a few steps towards the motorcycle. Even with his entire head covered with his helmet, he seemed visibly disturbed with the prospect of leaving his partner with the bats.

They heard the click, but Jason and Roy were the only two that had experienced it close enough to hear. Roy shouted a warning and Jason pivoted, shoving Dick with all the force he had and grabbing Damian by the shoulders, hugging the stunned teenager tightly to his chest before he even had a chance to blink or struggle. Jason turned to shield him right as the robotic corpse behind the two of them detonated in a blinding flash.

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger! Except not really, because we're currently sitting at 29 pages uploaded out of 58, so exactly halfway of what I already have written. I'm starting to write faster than I'm updating, so I might put out chapters faster so I don't just write into oblivion and make it overly-long. I really appreciate the comments and kudos, you're all so sweet!  
> \- this was edited to the Battling The Green Death OST from HTTYD because honestly it slaps


	7. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Jason's split-second decision plays out, and he faces the painful repercussions.

Goddamn. He ached all over, deep into his bones. It felt like someone had hit him with a train, backed up, and hit him again just for kicks. This is why he rarely went drinking; he either got sickly sweet or agro enough to get in terribly-coordinated drunken fist fight. Making Roy babysit his stupid, wasted ass wasn’t anything near a good idea or anything he would even consider, and if he went alone then the chances of waking up in a dumpster with at least shoe missing was higher than average.

He cracked an eye and immediately and deeply regretted it, shutting them with a wince against the bright light. Jesus Christ, did he fall asleep on the bathroom floor? That would mean that Roy had gone out; he never drank in front of the archer. He curled his fingers, expecting to feel tile underneath. Nope. Something soft brushed against his fingers instead, and he realized that he was lying on something with give. Definetly not the floor of their bathroom.

He opened his eyes slower this time, letting them adjust to the brightness. He was in a clean, massive room that twice the size of the bedroom of their apartment. The second he saw Roy, the events of earlier hit him

Roy was passed out in a chair next to his bed, the front half of his body slumped bonelessly onto the mattress. His trucker hat sat on his head at an angle that would probably end up with it on the floor in a few minutes. Jason sat up slightly, groaning with pain and bringing a hand up to his chest as he aborted the effort. His back killed, and something in his abdomen burned like someone had lit a fire underneath his skin.

Roy was awake in an instant, putting a hand on his shoulder in a panic to keep him from trying to get up. Jason frowned at the heart monitor clipped on his finger. He felt uncoordinated and groggy, like the world was stuffed with cotton. Painkiller fog, because he was stupid enough to throw himself in front of an explosion even though he’d been killed by one before. “ ‘s everyone okay?” he croaked, wincing at how horrifically scratchy his voice sounded.

“Christ, Jay, everyone’s fine.” Roy laughed nervously, letting go of him and pressing his palms over his eyes. “Does it hurt?”

“If you mean all of me, then yeah.” he rasped. Roy reached over and grabbed his half-empty water bottle for Jason from the nightstand, who drank the rest of it in one go.

Roy sombered even further, an expression Jason found he really didn’t care for on him. Roy wasn’t supposed to look so serious. “Are you okay here?” he asked, correctly assuming that Jason had figured out that no, he wasn’t at Leslie’s, but was currently stuck at Wayne fucking Manor.

“5 with no bats around.” he answered honestly, voice sounding significantly less like he’d swallowed sand, “Bruce is a big no. Can’t do it.”

Can’t do it was the understatement of the year, he’d been conscious for less than five minutes and already wanted to throw himself out a window and make a break for it. “You refused painkillers, didn’t you?” he asked, switching the subject.

Roy made a face, leaning back in his chair with a shrug that meant yes. Jason could see the tightness in the line of his shoulders, and the way that he was painstakingly careful not to move his casted leg even an inch. “Don’t need ‘em. Alfred gave me some advil. You were right, he’s pretty nice.”

Jason actually laughed, cutting off with a gasp as it pulled whatever injury was biting his abdomen and the most definetly cracked ribs. The statement just struck him so weird. “Fuck.” he wheezed, flailing a hand to ward off mother-hen Roy when he leaned back in.

“You think it’s gonna send you back over?” he asked quietly once he recovered his breath. Jason kept an eye on the door to make sure they weren’t being overheard. No doubt Tim was putting up a valiant effort to keep the rest of the bats the hell away from Jason; the kid was smart as hell and had definetly picked up on his dislike for them. But it wouldn’t last forever. The thought sent a small rush anxiety and anger through his veins that tried to shove back down.

“Yeah.” Roy answered, “I think the risk is too high for me. Not the smartest move with a broken bone, I know, but it’s the move I’m making. It’s not like I’ve never been trained to deal with a little pain.”

Jason sighed. On one hand, Roy would clearly be hurting with his busted leg and what was most definetly stitches for the deep gashes in his back, and meds would help. On the other hand, there had been a time when Roy had been deeply addicted to some pretty hard-core shit, and even if he was a stubborn asshole about it he knew what he could and couldn’t handle when it came to pain. Vigilantes usually did. It would suck, but if Alfred of all people couldn’t talk him out of it then he was serious. And Jason didn’t want to push him in a direction that Roy thought might even have a 1% chance of ending up in a relapse. Roy had scratched and crawled his way to sobriety and nothing would make him chance it.

“You’re on some good shit though.” he commented lightly, patting the arm that had an IV in it. His other one was bandaged up the bicep and shoulder. His left had been the side closest to the blast, and even through whatever drugs were being dripped into him through the line in his forearm still left him with a heated ache. “Did I catch on fire?” he mumbled.

“Yup.” Roy answered, in a tone like Jason had just asked him if it was Tuesday.

“Fuckin’ fantastic.” he groaned. The urge to poke at the bandaged wound was a little too much, and he immediately and deeply regretted it. He hissed and put his hand back down as pain radiated through his shoulder. “Bad idea.” he gritted out.

“Could’ve told you that.”

“Please shut the fuck up.” he begged. Roy laughed at him and Jason whacked him on the arm on retaliation.

The doorknob clicked and he froze, drawing his arm back to his body and staring like an angry cat. He didn’t like it but the reaction was involuntary. He hadn’t been this hurt in a long time, and knowing that Bruce, Dick, Tim, and the demon were in the same building was doing the opposite of helping him to not freak out. Tim let himself in. At least it wasn’t Bruce.

“Hey man, you’re up.” he chirped, a note of surprise in his voice like he hadn’t expected him to be. Oh God, Tim was so awkward it hurt. “No shit, Sherlock. Wanna explain why the front of my chest hurts so fuckin’ bad when my back got hit?” he croaked.

Tim winced at the question. He pulled the chair from in front of the desk and dragged it closer to the bed. Not as close as Roy’s, he noted, but close enough for it not to be weird for a conversation. Damn, he got way too analytical when he was bored. Being layed up in bed was gonna fucking suck.

“You were bleeding internally,” he explained hesitantly after rattling off a list of injuries Jason had pretty much expected jumping in front of an oncoming explosion. Cracked ribs, a few shallow punctures where shrapnel had gotten in the gaps of his body armor, second-degree burns on his left shoulder, back, and bicep where his leather jacket had caught fire before they could get it off of him, “Leslie had to open you up to stop it. You’re gonna have a pretty wicked scar up the front of your stomach.”

Jason’s heart dropped. He brought a hand up to rest on the bandages over his abdomen. He’d figured something had cut him, Jason hadn’t even considered that it might be worse. A little crispy and some broken bones, but he figured the body armor would have taken care of him a little more than it had. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” he deadpanned.

“Dude.”

“What?” he snapped.

“Stop picking at it!” Tim snapped back, glaring at him. Jason made a face at him but forced his hand to stop messing with the gauzy white that was beginning to get annoying at that point. “Fine.” he conceded, getting a little breathless with pain. Tim’s brow furrowed and Roy seemed content to get comfy and leave Jason to the bat’s fussing over him.

“Do you need me to get Alfred?”

“No.” he insisted.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, Jesus Tim. Quit with the hovering, all right?”

Tim’s face darkened like a storm cloud. “I’m going to hover! You could have died, Jason!” he snapped, genuinely upset, “Don’t you get that?”

Jason sat up, ignoring the strain in his abdomen and shoulder at the motion. Roy perked up like a bird. He’d shifted so he could spring up on his good leg if the rapidly escalating tension got out of hand, but didn’t intervene. It wasn’t his fight. “Yeah, I do!” Jason snarled, “And the kid would have died instead! Fuck, Tim, I’m a little wild but I’m not sure as shit not suicidal, and I’m not a fucking idiot!” he finished.

Tim deflated, sinking back in the chair like there was 1000 pounds pressing down on his shoulders. It hit Jay just how much he looked like absolute shit; Tim had changed out of the suit into a pair of ratty black jeans and adidas track jacket thrown over a white shirt. He’d seen Drake in civvies and those weren’t his usual; those were comfort clothes. “I know you’re not, and I didn’t mean to make it sound like I was saying you were.” he said tiredly, rubbing the heel of his palm over his eye like he had a headache. “It was just way too close for comfort.”

“Seconded.” Roy chirped flatly.

“But seriously, thank you. Damian’s might be the literal devil, but the blast would have killed him and he walked away with just bruises. Bruce is in the cave right now putting light armor into his suit.” His eyes widened and he put his head in his hands. ”Oh, shit.” he groaned.

Jason frowned. Tim had that look on his face that he got when he didn’t want to say something. “What?”

“Leslie needs to look at you. I was supposed to check if you were up and go get her.” he whined into his hands.

Jason groaned, worming back into the pillows and dragging the blanket over his legs up higher to cover his chest. Tim laughed. He got up, leaning to crack his back in what sounded truly painful to listen to. “Give me like two minutes.” he mumbled, halfway burying his head in the mountain of pillows. Maybe he could suffocate himself in the fluff before Bruce got sick of waiting for Jay to come to him and ‘reconcile’ and decided to harass the hostage.

Tim didn’t give him a minute. Leslie let herself in and poked at him for a while, gave him a concussion test that he somehow passed, and told him he wasn’t allowed to get up and do anything until his internal sutures healed unless he wanted to bleed to death internally. That he wasn’t allowed to lift anything above 10 pounds or spar. Basically, Jason couldn’t do anything fun and was stuck at the manor until he wasn’t at risk of his internal sutures tearing. It was eerily familiar from all the times he’d seen her back when he was Robin. Man, she’d yelled at Bruce so many times for ‘letting’ him get so banged up on patrol. Wasn’t really his fault. Jason had never really grown out of being a fighty kid, now he was just a fighty adult.

Leslie was way too interested in how he had a pulse. It was honestly creeped him out a little, but he was more or less an exception to the laws of nature at this point, so he didn’t blame her. She wasn’t going to leave unless he explained at least a little of it to her, so her threw her a bone and just muttered something incoherent about the Lazarus Pit and shut his trap. She said something he didn't remember and turned up his morphine drip when he was taking pauses in the middle of sentences because fuck, it really hurt when someone cut you open and snooped around in your guts. It took the edge off (he’d been on the minimum dosage) and she’d asked permission, so he was alright with it.

Roy disappeared to grab some of his stuff from the safehouse while Jay got some sleep. He always got either irritatingly hyper or ridiculously tired when he was sick or hurt, and now wasn’t an exception. Thankfully it was the second one at the moment, or he’d probably have lost his mind with boredom already and tried to follow Roy out of the manor. He was halfway there, but sleeping was a thing so it’d be alright for now as long as the bats and birds stayed the hell away from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments, I love hearing from you guys! Rounding out and finishing up two other long fics, as well as putting my other one already written up on the new account.


	8. Homecoming Hatered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason and Roy heal, but the Outlaws refuse to sit around while life continues without them.

Jay was still sleeping when he got back, drooling a little with Roy’s earbuds in and his phone laying on Jacon’s chest. Good thing he’d remember to call Koriand’r on his burner rather than his civilian. She’d have woken him up by now by blowing up Roy’s phone with calls if he hadn’t set it to ‘do not disturb’ or freaked out and come back planetside when she couldn’t get in contact with them. Even so, it had been pretty hard to convince her not to show up. She and Grayson were still a little rocky, and Kori was the only Outlaw in the field right now; they needed her to do what they couldn’t to keep everything from falling apart.

He dropped his backpack on the floor (he could easily pass for a college student apparently) and eased himself down onto the couch, setting his crutches down on the low coffee table in front. His leg burned like the robotic lion still had its jaw clamped around it, aching all the way down to the bone. Whoever invented crutches was a fucking genius.

His bag was just filled with clothes, the two shitty laptops the Outlaws collectively shared in safehouses, with a couple of books thrown in for when Jason eventually got annoying. It took Roy forever to read a book from cover to cover, but he’d seen Jay re-read one of the Harry Potter books in like eight hours flat. If he didn’t already know Jason didn’t have powers, he’d think speed-reading could be one of them.

The door creaked open and none other than Bruce fucking Wayne crept in. He wouldn’t have thought that the man under the cowl had the capacity to look sheepish, but there he was looking like… well, looking like hell aside from looking like a kid about to get yelled at for breaking a lamp. Blue eyes darted from Jason to Roy, settling on Roy. He raised an eyebrow at him like he was asking something. The gesture was so familiar it was eerie, he’d seen Jason do it a thousand times. Roy didn’t exactly know what he was asking, just like with Jay; he didn’t speak Bat.

“If you talk quietly and don’t bug him, he’s not gonna wake up just because you’re in the room.” Roy said flatly, shifting to bring his casted leg up onto the coffee table, “He’s not a psychic.”

Wayne looked stunned for a moment. Roy couldn’t tell if he was genuine or not, but the dark haired man recovered quickly. “You’re Roy Harper.” he stated, not at all a question.

“And you’re Bruce Wayne.” he parroted. They stared at each other for a tense moment. Roy knows exactly what he wants.

Wayne wants Jason to wake up, miraculously forgive him and then they all eat family dinner together and ride into the sunset to fight crime in the Batmobile. That Jay would see the error of his ways and never kill again, and the next time the Joker escaped he would be totally alright with the psychotic freak who killed him getting chucked into another cell in Arkham everyone knew he would eventually break out of. The clock would reset for the next breakout and spree of mass violence and Jason wouldn’t have any issue with the concept of letting him live.

Roy beat him to the punch. “He’s doing better. Still doesn’t want to see you or any Bat except for Tim, and sometimes not even him, but he’s a lot more stable than he used to be.” Roy didn’t know why he felt so defensive, but he’d say anything to get out of the ‘oh how can I relate to my estranged son’ conversation.

“Thank you.” Bruce said quietly. He look another quick look at Jason, who was still dead to the world with a Queen playlist running through the earbuds. It was weird, but the music helped to keep the nightmares at bay.

“The memorial.” he blurted out, unable to stop himself, “the one with the plaque in the Bat Cave. You should take it down. Jay’s not dead; he’d really fucking hate it.”

Bruce blinked, his mouth turning to a hard line. For a second, Roy thought he had overstepped the imaginary line of Bat business. For all that Jason didn’t consider himself a part of, he knew that the big Bat still considered him his son and a member of the family.

“He’d be angry.” Bruce repeated. It sounded like the thought had never crossed his mind before now. Granted, he’d had a lot to think about regarding Jay that didn’t include ‘what would my not-dead adoptive son think about being labeled a good soldier in a memorial?’

“Yeah, he would.” the billionaire repeated a second time, answering his own question. “If you can, try to keep him in bed until he’s healed enough to get up.” he asked of him, “The only one he listens to is Alfred.” Bruce shut the door before Roy had the chance to respond.

Damn it. It would be hard to miss that Jay’s dad cared about him. But he also tried to throw him in Arkham, good intentions or not. And he did a load of other dumbass moves that Roy didn’t want to think about. Jay had a mountain of insecurities surrounding his family and didn’t need Roy dwelling on it too. And the circus guy dated one of his best friends and a member of their crime-fighting trio, so he had a feeling it was going to be understandably weird.

He couldn’t get the image of the blast out of his head. Jason wrapping himself around the little bird to shield him even though he didn’t even know him. It was such a Jason Todd move that it almost physically hurt. How hard the force of it threw him. How it felt like his heart had seized in his chest when they couldn’t immediately get him up, and the bats started throwing around words like internal bleeding and emergency. He’d thought the broken leg was bad, but seeing Jay like that hurt worse than anything.

He didn’t care to label it, but Jason Todd was one of the few people that he really cared about in life. He’d do almost anything for him. The Outlaws trusted their lives with one another, but he didn’t feel the need to check on Kori as much as he did Jay. He loved both of them dearly, but with Jason it was just... different. He never really thought about it. Hell, it didn’t feel like he had to, but Jay had scared the shit out of him when he took the brunt of the blast to save the little demon bird.

He dragged the bag over with his good foot, pulling his laptop and booting it up. The person buying up metals left and right wasn’t supposed to be prepared enough to do anything. They must have had all the shit to build the innards of a robot already stocked. Imagine someone plain crazy enough to think that robotic predators was the way to gain any form of criminal power. Some people just had to be the unique ones; drugs and guns were just too unoriginal for them.

He hunted through the documents in his file, banding together the ones that seemed the most intertwined with each other and the ones that lead to dead ends. If he was going to sit around with a broken leg and lines of stitches, he wasn’t going to waste his own time.

In hindsight, it might have been kinda rude to just sit there, but whoever had sent those bots out had just put two Outlaws out of commission for weeks. He needed their house in order before there was another attack. Why criminals couldn’t ever be happy with just the one was beyond him, but it never went like that.

It took about five hours for Jason to wake up again. He had a sneaking suspicion that the grey-haired lady doctor from earlier had drugged him to get him to sleep. He hadn’t so much as twitched until he came back around. In the time he’d been out though, Roy had gone to town on research.

The corkboard from over the desk had been commandeered for their efforts. The bats might be annoyed, but he’d put it back when they figured it out. And hey, he was saving them a lot of desk work.

Sketches he’d traced from the computer screen, scribblings about supply order through the airport just outside of town, construction supplies brought through Gotham Harbor, names and a map of Gotham that Jason had teased him mercilessly over (Suck it, Jay. Who’s right now?) that had red slashes through any area that couldn’t hold the amount of metal required to build the robo-nightmares. All of it was pinned to the board that now lived on the surface of the coffee table.

Jason had actually tried to get up to inspect it until Roy hopped over and handed him his laptop. He stole his phone back periodically to take a picture of the progress so his partner could keep updated while he tried to tack some names onto their info that Roy hadn’t been able to find. Yet.

That’s how Dick Grayson found them hours later; hunched over research with a lit cigarette dangling out of Jason’s mouth. Roy’s own was held between his fingers as he stared red-eyed at the ever improving red-scribbled board like it was going to come to life and tell him the secrets of the universe. In seven hours (two and a half with Jay helping), they’d managed to figure out which shipments coming through the airport were for construction downtown, and eliminated most of Uptown and a third of Crime Alley for storage. The Alley was a hell of a lot more difficult; there were enough abandoned buildings to make ruling areas out on space alone impossible.

Both of their heads snapped up as the door opened, revealing a Grayson that looked just as surprised to see them up as they were to see that he’d gotten the guts to come in here. Tim must’ve passed out at his own computer. Granted, it was somewhere around two or three in the morning but they’d both been hoping the other former Robin would have been successful in keeping the bats other away for longer.

“Hey, little wing.” Grayson said casually, leaning against the open door frame. Jason rolled his eyes at the nickname. “If you’re here for a feelings talk, turn around.” he said sharply, taking a drag off his cigarette before snubbing it out in the empty glass Roy had found in the bathroom. Roy had gone around and opened all the windows, so hopefully the room wouldn't smell like smoke but he couldn’t get up to get outside. So it was kind of out of his hands anyway.

Dick’s eyes settled on the cork board that at that point looked more like a prop out of a show about a crazed detective or a serial killer than anything else. You’d have thought that someone told the guy that Santa was actually real by the way his eyes lit up at the array of information pinned all over it

“You’re working?” he asked. He didn’t sound upset. Roy answered for both of them, a wicked grin on his face. “Damn straight.” he chirped. He wiggled his casted leg, “Saving all the actual leg work for you bats, but might as well give you a direction to go in.”

Dick snorted in disbelief that he’d joke about a broken limb. Arsenal and Nightwing had met, but Roy Harper and Dick Grayson had never really gotten the chance. Plus, the exchange gave Jay a few spare seconds to suss the acrobat out. The two of them hadn’t had a positive interaction in years.

Dick finally fully entered the room, closing it softly enough that no one would hear and try to get in too (Bruce, maybe) like some poorly kept secret, and padded over to the board. He was barefoot; just in a set of plaid pajama bottoms and a thin purple tee-shirt for some Bludhaven dance team he’d never heard of, his black hair messy even though he hadn’t gone to bed yet. 2

“Tim said you wanted space.” he announced, eyes flicking from Roy to Jason. Was he nervous? “So I’m just gonna be over here.”

Jay stared at him. He looked a little ridiculous having actually earned his bedhead, the white lock of hair in his bangs going two different directions while the entire thing was a mess of static. Jason kept staring at him, face neutral enough that Roy couldn’t tell what he was thinking until he opened his mouth.

“No feelings, just work, if you tell me when I can get on my feet. And not a bullshit ‘just to be safe’ answer; minimum time.”

“A little bit every day, starting tomorrow. You’re laid up for a month, I think, but Leslie might tell you more time to ‘be safe’. No twisty motions.” he answered immediately, voice eager until the last part soured into something apologetic. “It’s gonna hurt.”

Jay considered for a moment, deemed him truthful, and jerked his head as an invitation for him to stop standing in the middle of the room like a weirdo. Dick grinned, and Jason grimaced in response. His partner looked distinctly uncomfortable but Roy was honestly stunned at how well Jay was taking it. They were stuck in the manor until he was well enough to move to the safehouse, which was probably a few days out, with no way to avoid the residents. Saving Bruce’s bio-kid might have falsely looked like an olive branch to them, when from what Roy could tell it was just Jason acting purely on instinct.

They went back and forth until the sun went up, but none of them could really got why the robots had been set off so far away from downtown Gotham. The docks were part of Crime Alley depending on who you asked, for Roy and Jason it was a resounding yes, but they weren’t as heavily populated. Dick finally got it when the sun started to come up at around 5am.

He was sprawled across the end of Jason’s bed, his head tipped back over the side so saw them upside down. He bolted upright suddenly enough to break through to the 5am no-caffeine haze and get their attention. He didn’t say anything, just stared at the serial killer-esque board and narrowed his eyes.

Jason stretched and shoved him with a foot. “Roy, we broke him.” he announced. Dick flapped a hand at him and shushed, pointing at the board with his free hand.

“It’s a test run.”

“Holy shit.” Roy breathed, getting up to pace on his crutches. Jay was clearly jealous that he was at least partially more mobile than him, but hadn’t whined about it yet.

“He’s right.” Jay decided, opening a document and typing rapidly. “Damn it, I can’t believe this. I’m not even mad that you were the one to connect it.” he lied.

Dick beamed and Jason poked him in the side with his foot in an attempt to kill his fun, but he had a good-natured smirk on his face. “So they’re trying to feel out the vigilantes. See who would show up if the Outlaws called for help.”

“I’m calling Kori.” Roy announced, snatching the phone from the bed and hitting her contact on speed dial before Dick could object.

“Fuck, you should let Gordon know to look out.” Jason groaned, resting a hand over his stomach and biting his lip as he shifted to sit all the way up.

Dick looked pained with how badly he wanted to just burst into a flurry of questions and concerns. He couldn’t want to be in this situation less than he already did. With people he used to consider family, most that he tried pretty damn hard to kill, lurking around every corner. If he listened hard enough, he could hear Roy’s faint conversation with Kori through the door. From what he could make out, it sounded like he was going to be stuck with Dick for a bit as the archer fully explained the situation they’d found themselves in.

Koriand’r would probably be in Gotham by the afternoon to help cover Crime Alley. Not that the bats and birds weren’t capable, but they didn’t roll like they did. Jason didn’t trust it.

“No feelings.” he reminded, not liking the look on Grayson’s face. Dick sighed, clearly frustrated with how little Jason was giving him to work with. He wouldn’t give him anything at all usually but the morphine was making him feel generous.

“One.” he countered. Jason just stared tiredly at him, something he was doing pretty often now apparently. Dick cocked an eyebrow at him in typical Grayson fashion and he just folded like a shitty house of cards. He was hurting and tired, but too wired up to sleep even on the pain meds unless Leslie sedated him again. Which would happen over his dead body. If he gave them little bits then maybe they’d leave him alone and not jump down his throat.

“Fine.”

Dick looked surprised. Like he’d expected Jason to just tell him to fuck off and get out, which he had half a mind to. But it wasn’t his house anymore, and he couldn’t physically throw Nightwing out with the sorry state he was in.

He picked his question carefully before opening his mouth, but it still threw Jason for a loop. “Why are you stable now?” Dick demanded. Gently, but a demand all the same. Way to make him immediately regret it, Grayson.

For just a second, the sickly toxic-green of the Lazarus Pit flashed before his eyes. The bloodlust running through his veins like adrenaline that never faded. Weeks of it until it evened out into rage and violence. It was easier to kill back then. A flick of the trigger and the smell of gunsmoke and that was it. He never even thought about it, now it weighed on him but he’d passed the point of no return years ago.

Hell, he didn’t even know why he tried so hard to kill the bats other than the fact that he was so pissed he couldn’t handle it. Pissed that he died and Bruce didn’t change anything. Same weapons, armor, everything; there was nothing preventing it from happening again. He'd finally wisened up and put armor into Damian's suit, but only after the kid had nearly gotten blown up. Funny that that was the way Jay had gone out.

“I… fuck.” he breathed, taking a second after being caught so violently off guard. “Really didn’t think you were go for that one.”

“Too far. I’m sorry Jay, I went too far and you don’t have to-” he stammered. “Shut up, dickhead.” Jason cut him off, grinding the heels of his palms over his eyes with a sigh. “I gave you one.”

“You guys have probably figured out that I broke out of my own grave by now.” he started slowly, staring at the space between Dick’s eyebrows so he didn’t have to make eye contact with him. Was he seriously doing this? “The league of assassins picked me up, and I spent like two years as a slave to the Al Ghul’s. I… I couldn’t really talk. Still had brain damage from when I died.”

“Talia threw me in the Lazarus Pit. It fixes you, can bring you back to life too I think, but it drives you insane. Takes what bad you have in you and dials it up to eleven. Murder-y. You remember how I used to be.”

“Yeah- I mean you were fighty but you weren’t outright violent.” Dick protested. Completely assured of it; convinced that Jason had been some pure of heart kid. Like the second he’d put on the domino it had just washed away his personality and replaced it with something else. The conviction hurt like needles in Jason’s heart.

“Dick, you didn’t like me for a long time. And you never really knew me that well. I was violent. All those years ago, I didn’t kill that guy Bruce thought I did; I didn’t push him but I didn’t stop him either. I grew as an Alley kid.” he explained bluntly, ignoring the slightly stunned look on Dick’s face and the way he tensed as Jason dragged the skeletons they’d shoved into the closet out into the light. He might have felt guilty if Dick hadn’t been the one to start it.

“The Lazarus Pit fades, but you know I’ve always been like this, Dick. What I don’t get is how you’re all so surprised by it.” he said sharply, pushing his bangs back from where they’d fallen into his eyes. He could see the acrobat eyeing the white streak of hair; a gift from the Lazarus Pit. “You and the rest of them can’t cross that line, but that doesn’t mean I won’t when it has to be.”

“You want me to believe that you were always crazy?” Dick repeated. Jason recoiled like he’d been slapped, something about the bat calling him crazy sitting like a poison with him. He wasn’t crazy. Scarecrow was crazy, the Riddler was crazy, the Joker was fucking crazy. Dick noticed how stressed he’d gotten tried to take it back. “Jay, I didn’t mean-”

“Get out.” he hissed, voice low and dangerous and everything he’d kept under wraps when he’d been a bat. “Right now, Dick, or I'll show you fucking crazy.” Jason threatened.

It looked like Grayson was going to open his fucking mouth again to try and backpedal but the barely-contained look in Jason’s eyes stopped him dead in his tracks. Adrenaline and lazarus rage itching beneath the surface of his skin like it would shred him to pieces and incinerate him from the inside out.

He stood up and walked away, a slump to his shoulders. He stopped with his hand on the door and looked back. “Sorry.” Dick said quietly.

Jason leaned back did his best to deeply and calm himself down as the door clicked shut. He needed to get up and get the hell out of there, get back to the Alley and scrap with criminals until he couldn't see straight. But unless he wanted to rip his stitches and bleed to death, he was stuck.

And it had actually been going pretty well. They’d worked together for hours without anything coming up. Put so many cracks in the case that they’d split it open.

It felt like when he was a kid; down in the Batcave doing what they did best, solving the shit out of some cases when they should probably have been sleeping. Sneaking coffee out of the kitchen for both of them and getting scolded by Alfred no matter how thoroughly they destroyed the evidence on the rare occasion that Dick decided to stop ignoring him.

But he wasn’t a bat. God, it hurt more than he thought it would. Jason had managed to get so numb to it that bringing it back up threw him for a complete loop. He wasn’t a bat. Hell, maybe he’d never really been one. Not gold-hearted enough for the standard. Never as good a Robin as Dick had been. Never the upper-class, sweetheart son that the media had wanted him to be. He had the rot of Crime Alley in his heart, and he’d made something of it damn it.

Whatever -this- was, was a waste of time. He needed to get back to the Alley, and then out of Gotham when he knew it wouldn’t fall back into too severe of a chaos without him.

The rest of the world was a lot wider than Gotham, and had the bonus of less bats to deal with. Trying to fix what had been broken wasn’t going to fucking work. The pieces were microscopic and all of them were blind.

He really had to get out of there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited this while my friend tried to convince me to pack my bags for the convention over discord. On the other hand, I just finished spray painting my body armor for Jason, and got a ton of inspiration for the fic wandering around the aisles of a Home Depot.  
> Writing Damian feels impossible because he's so far from my own personality, but I promise he comes up in later chapters!


	9. Decisions, Decisions,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Outlaws make their choice, and Jason takes a step towards trusting someone other than Roy and Kori.

Dick storms past, a holy (and incredibly bitter) terror as he stomps through the manor up to the guest room Little Wing and Arsenal had been staying in. He throws open the door and confirms what he already knows.

It’s empty. It’s spotless, Jay had never been one to be messy with other people’s things, and he didn’t consider the Manor a place for him anymore. So the two of them had straightened up the room before they’d left. Goddamn it.

There was something red sitting on the nightstand; the only trace that existed to show Jay had ever been there in the first place. He crosses the room and snatches it up in a fist, restraining himself from throwing the damn thing at the wall until it broke. Instead, he forces himself to open his hand and look at it.

It’s a flash drive. There are little drawings all over it in sharpie that look like Roy’s handywork. Tiny little mazes and stick figures fighting each other with swords. A tiny spider sketched in purple. A trio of arrows that form a triangle.

Why would he leave this and nothing else? Even with how bad things had been between them, why wouldn’t he at least say goodbye?

He’s pissed off, but he doesn’t slam the door on his way to stalk back to the batcave. If all he left when he ran out was a stupid flashdrive, it better have the location to El Dorado on it. Dick ignores the questions as he storms over to where he left his laptop.

Dick clicks the flash drive into the port on his laptop, and waits for a second for the computer to take in the information. He brings up the file center and sees the flash drive pop up. He doesn’t know what he’s expecting, like the pop up is just going to explain all of their problems away. It doesn’t, it’s just a flash drive titled ‘Thank You’. Opening it takes a second, but when it does...

Holy. Shit.

Dick gawks jaw-dropped at the computer, staring at document after document of info. They’re labeled like a high schooler made it. Stupid Drugs And Shit, People That Sell Stupid Drugs And Shit, and That Asshole on Marks St. particularly catch his eye. Jay hadn’t bothered to say goodbye, but he’d left them one hell of a parting gift.

“Wow.” Tim breathed, “This… this is incredible.” From the look on his face, this was his nirvana. Dick had worked with Jason and Roy on a case, and yeah the work ethic the two of them had going was kind of wildly impressive, but this was insane. It’s hundreds of documents and images and downloaded articles, grouped into folders and left free with ‘unfinished’ tacked onto the end of their names.

“Why would Todd leave this to us?” Damian demanded, glaring daggers at Tim like he was keeping the answer a secret. Tim had been keeping secrets, but it didn’t look like he’d been in on this one

“He’s asking for help.” Bruce said quietly. He leaned over Dick’s shoulder, skimming through the document names as his son scrolled. Files had been doubled in put into different folders. By location, by case, by a hunch. It was a tech nerd’s paradise.

From the location folders, Jay and Roy were keeping an eye on two districts, the docks, and all of Crime Alley. Christ, he was running himself into the ground even before he got himself so badly injured protecting a kid he didn’t even like. Jason was unpredictable, but none of them were surprised by Jason running out. It didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt.

It was obvious just looking at the sheer amount of data on the flashdrive that the workload was burying the two of them beneath it. And instead of working with them, Jay and Roy had just forked over everything they had and run away.

Tim looked like he wanted to leave. Dick wasn’t sure whether it was just because of how much he’d idolized Jay when he’d been more or less replacing him, or that he’d managed to got the closest to Jason and he hadn’t let him in on his plan to give them the holy grail of information and split. “So they just give us all of this and leave? Just like that?” he demanded.

“He knows we wouldn’t leave it once we opened the drive.” Bruce explained. And with that, he turned around and walked out of the cave. Tim called after him, but B didn’t respond. Dick gets up to change, and by the time he gets back Steph is parked in front of his laptop.

He opens his mouth to ask and she beats him to punch. “Sorting them into urgent and seeing if we’ve got intel to fill in the holes.” she explains. The screen of his laptop is broadcasting to the Batcomputer as Stephanie digs through file after file. “He’s got dirt on drug dealers in downtown too; there’s a massive amount of overlap in drugs active in the Alley.”

She drags up a file he hadn’t seen before. The label is the same as the flashdrive; it just reads ‘thank you’. “What is that?” he asks, just as Tim decides to become Steph’s third shadow. He doesn’t have any idea where Damian went, but Tim hadn’t bothered to change out of his Red Robin attire. The sweat was drying in his hair. Dick was about to tell him to go shower or something before Steph says something that nearly knocks him off his feet.

“Their phone numbers.” she says, a smirk on her face, “Probably burners, but take what you can get I suppose. And… this.”

She opens the file, displaying two phone numbers in bold black lettering as the header. Neither is labeled, but the two Outlaws seemed to hover around each other enough to reach both if they called one.

There’s a letter underneath, and Dick and Tim both go into silence as they read.

‘Hey. Thanks for not letting us die, and sorry. The contents of the drive is everything we’ve got running right now in Gotham; I’ve been informed by pretty much all of you that if I go work then I will ‘probably bleed internally and die’, so I thought it best to hand off the baton to all of you. Kori’s working like crazy, so you might see her around. Merry Christmas or whatever.  
\- Jason’

No one said anything for a moment. Dick, because the last thing he’d been expecting to hear after Jason ran out without saying a word was sorry.

He fishes his phone out of his pocket and punches in the number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters Two Chapters TWO CHAPTERS!!!


	10. Rooftop Rendevous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes I had to include Pizza Rat. I almost named the entire chapter Pizza Rat. You're welcome.

One of the bats is texting him. At first, Jason thinks that it’s a wrong number. Super weird that it was to his burner but nothing to be alarmed about. Besides, how often do you see two giant rats fighting over a slice of pizza? That wasn’t a number to block.

They’re stupid pictures. The two rats, a blurry picture of a graffiti mural of a massive burning phoenix, a stray cat sunning itself on the dented hood of a parked car.

And then there’s a picture of the skyline, taken from an angle that Jason recognizes immediately. It’s from one of the tallest office buildings in downtown Gotham. He knows from experience that the only way anyone could get an angle like that would be to get on the roof, and that the only way up was to use a grappling gun.

One of the bats was texting him using the number he’d left on the flashdrive. So ‘in case of emergency’ meant ‘whenever you feel like it’, noted. Jason considered ditching the burner for another one, got as far as holding it over the garbage can in the apartment. But he doesn’t let go. And no, it doesn’t occur to him that he could have just blocked the fucking number until after he almost throws his phone in the trash.

Instead, the phone finds a home in his pocket. There’s no way the pictures are from Damian, so he rules Bruce’s brat out. Jason may have saved his life on an impulse, but it didn’t change the fact that they’d barely said two words to each other since Jason had come back to Gotham this time around. It was funny that the bat he probably had the most in common with was the one he’d talked to the least. Besides Cass, but he’d barely even seen her so he didn’t really know if that counted.

He rules out Bruce purely on the fact that he’d handle it badly if it actually was the big bat on the other end, so Jason doesn’t entertain the thought. Which left Dick and Tim.

He figures out that it’s Dick when he gets a picture of his favorite gargoyle. Besides Bruce, Dick had been the only one that knew his best friend had been a statue growing up. Let’s not even get into how depressing that is, but even in his 20s he was still fond of the stupid hunk of stone.

It’s either the mind-numbing boredom that came with being temporarily out of the vigilante game, or an actual instance of being possessed, but when Jason sees a spider on the wall he snaps a picture and sends it almost automatically after Roy is done losing his shit over the fact that spiders exist. He traps it with a glass and puts it on the fire escape, and takes another picture of it crawling to freedom to complete the saga. As an afterthought, he’s careful to keep any identifying buildings out of the shot.

Another number sends him updates to the info he and Roy had handed over. That one actually might be Bruce, or it could be Tim, but he’s hooked so deeply into the cases that he ignores that thought entirely. The bats bust the new dealer who had been bothering the working girls in the Red Light district and destroy the supply. As a bonus, they also get the supplier locked up. Good; it had been a pain in the ass for way too long.

Being stuck taking it easy was strange. He didn’t know what to do with himself, and it makes him uneasy. Other than just lazing around in sweatpants and ratty t-shirts, he throws himself into behind-the-scenes work to stave off the stagnancy. Basically, Jason cyber stalks every person of interest in ongoing cases and sends what he finds back to the bats, because he really needs something to do. If he watches Mean Girls one more time he’ll tear his fucking hair out.

It’s safe. It’s sticking an arm in cold water instead of his whole body. There’s no feelings, no asking him questions he can’t or won’t answer, just stupid pictures of pigeons and graffiti and weird shit. A picture of the bathroom sink covered in black dye after he’d dyed over the white streak in his hair. The communication feels… okay.

He can tell when Dick’s in Bludhaven and when he’d in Gotham. Bludhaven looks more like the lovechild of Crime Alley and New York City; bright in the same way that Gotham is but colorful. Neon and loud even when it’s gritty. Jason’s kind of town.

Roy gets this weird look on his face when Jason shows him a picture of a one-eyed raccoon eating a bagel that Dick had sent him. It was one of Dick’s better ones; the raccoon’s mouth was open and half of it was just a mess of motion blur as the thing went absolutely feral. “Huh, didn’t know he had a sense of humor.” he says offhandedly, shoving another spoonful of cereal in his mouth. “It looks like you.”

“Ha ha. Very funny.” He chucks a grape into Roy’s cereal and the archer kicks him in the shin under the table in retaliation.

“You’re alright with Dick texting you?”

Jay shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. Why?”

“Because if Oliver had my number, I would light my phone on fire.” he said flatly. Jason snorted, leaving the man to his love affair with his cheerios in favor of having a smoke out on the fire escape.

Gotham was slowly starting to turn into winter. Other than a cold snap about a month ago, it had been pretty decent. Jason traced his fingers through the frost on the railing of the fire escape, cigarette dangling from his mouth. He shook out his hand, flinging wet slush as his body heat melted the poorly-constructed ice. They would need to stud their tires soon or risk wiping out on the road.

He took another drag, feeling the nicotine soothe his blood as the smoke curled and disappeared into the freezing air. He wasn’t positive what the date was; keeping track of the days when your sleeping schedule was as whacked out as his was got to be an impossible task. But judging by the fact that someone had spray painted a string of fairy lights running along the apartment building across the street, it was safe to say Christmas was coming up.

He’d never been so relaxed and stressed at the same time. On one hand, the bats were doing the Outlaws work with Kori. And on the other hand, the bats were doing their work.

And then he looked up to the roof across the street, and all the relaxed went away.

Dick fucking Grayson was perched on the runner of the roof in a three-point crouch, staring at him. Jason could hardly see him in the darkness. Only the blues of his suit and the white lens of his domino.

He mentally registered the weight of the knife strapped to his ankle purely on instinct. It was the only weapon he had on him in his civvies, and he wasn’t planning on going and stabbing Dick, but he needed it on him. Fuck, he didn’t want to call Roy.

So, he did something that felt insurmountably stupid, and started up the fire escape. The aging metal creaked under his bare feet as he padded up the stairs to the roof, the paint flaking more and more the higher he got.

Jason barely had one foot on the roof before he heard the whir of Dick’s grappling line and the acrobat was on his fucking roof.

“You have got to be kidding me!” he hissed, keeping quiet in an effort not to wake up his whole neighborhood. Dick raised his arms in mock surrender as Jason stormed over. He swatted him on the shoulder to get him to knock it off, fuming silently as he waited for Dick to open his mouth and spew stupid.

“I’m going to start off saying that I totally wasn’t looking for you.”

“Really?” he asked, voice thick with sarcasm.

“I’m serious!” Dick defended, flinging an arm wide to gesture at the rooftops. “I’m on patrol; I had no idea you lived here. Promise.” He crossed his fingers over his heart and Jason rolled his eyes.

He sighed, tapping his cigarette to drop the ashes on the floor of the roof. Floor of the roof, weird. Jason took another drag and revelled in the disapproving look on Nightwing’s face. To his credit, he turned his head not to blow smoke in the other vigilante’s face.

“Fucking wild coincidence.” he muttered.

Dick looked around like he’d never seen the place before. “You live here?” he asked, and damn did he not like the tone in which he said it.

“Yup.”

“Jay, this is one of the worst neighborhoods in Gotham.”

“Wow. Hadn’t noticed.” he deadpanned, “God forbid someone breaks into the apartment with two paranoid vigilantes and a shit ton of projectiles. That would go super well for them.”

Dick snorted. “Okay, fine.” he relented. He looked surprised that Jason would be that self-aware of his own paranoia. Also like he was biting his tongue over something, which was unicorn-rare for the guy. If it got him to stop sneaking glances at Jason’s bitten-to-the-quick nails or making the disapproving mother face at the cigarette in his hand, he’d rather Dick just get it over with.

“Spit it out, Grayson. I’m not going to shoot you.” he snarked, “What?”

“Can we talk?”

Oh, god. Nightmare time. Jason sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Having a heart-to-heart with his estranged brother on the roof of his apartment building was not on his list of fun things to do.

“Look-”

Dick cut him off, determination setting in his face. “I’m not going to get all feelings-y and I’m not going to lecture you.” he insisted, “And I’m sorry for calling you crazy. I didn’t know that it was a touchy subject. I don’t know, but I want to.”

He paused, waiting for Jason to interrupt him back. To protest or cut him off, or just go back down the fire escape and ignore him. Jason was weak against Dick’s kicked puppy look, and the bastard could pull it off with a domino mask covering his eyes.

When Jason didn’t interrupt him, he went on. “I get that you need your space, and I’m not going to push you if you say not to. But it’s been really nice talking again, and I’m really proud of you, Jay. You’re your own advocate and I respect that.”

It felt like his feet had frozen to the floor. Jason was the first to admit that his memory was a little scrambled, but he couldn’t recall a single time in his life that Dick had ever said that he was proud of him. Jesus, he hated the needy part of him that glowed at the praise.

Dick went on, seemingly oblivious to Jason’s mind self-imploding with shock and a pinch of self-loathing. “So if you need to keep away, that sucks but I get it. But we all miss you. And I want to get the chance to get to know my little brother again, because we both know I didn’t do that great the first time around. And I’m really sorry for that.”

“...”

“Jay?” Dick said carefully, voice concerned. The ‘oh shit, I broke Jason’ tone. It wasn’t wrong; his brain felt like a 10 hour loop of Wii music and error messages.

“Just poured my heart out over here. No biggie.”

‘I have Ink Masters on DVD.” Jason blurted out, and then immediately wanted to smack himself in the face. Fuck it, he was going to play it out.

“Uh. Are you feeling okay?”

“It’s this tattoo reality show that Roy got me into. You’d either really like it or completely hate it.” he continued. “It kind of rocks.”

“...okay?” Now it looked like he’d broken Grayson. Damn it.

“You know where I live. Maybe you could come watch it sometime.” Dick opened his mouth to ask but Jason beat him to the punch, “Yes, I just invited you over, stupid.”

Dick grinned like a goofy kid. He moved to hug him but stopped and diverted to walking towards the ledge when he saw Jason flinch. “See you around, then.” he called, before taking a running start and leaping to the next rooftop, pulling a flip in the middle of his jump.

Show-off.

Jason finished his cigarette on the way back down the fire escape, snuffing it out in the ashtray on the window sill as he climbs back into their apartment.

“I just invited Dick to the apartment.” he announced. There’s a metallic clatter as Roy drops something in the kitchen. He pokes his head around the doorway that they’d never bothered to put a door on like a gopher.

“For reals?” Roy leaned against the doorway. He’d shoved his crutches into the corner by the door and only touched them in he was going out, relying on using the walls and furniture to get around the apartment.

“Yeah.... he was patrolling and saw me on the fire escape, so Dick knows where we live now I guess.”

Roy cocked an eyebrow at him. “And you’re okay with that?” he asked skeptically.

Jason threw himself on the couch, ignoring the slight twinge of pain in his abdomen. “I mean, if he shows up randomly I’m throwing him off the fire escape, but I can deal with him watching Ink Masters with us. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” he offered.

Roy snorted, shaking his head at Jay. His hair was getting even longer; red hair had been scooped up into a messy bun, shorter pieces drifting down to frame his face. He grins, wicked and wily as a coyote. “Nah. Gotta help you throw Dick out the window.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to translate my addiction to Ink Masters in here somewhere. Just started tech-ing a show as a dresser, so shit's kind of wild over here rn. About two or three more chapters to go!


	11. Unhappy Anniversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's sad, y'all.

Jason Todd is an asshole.

Dick resists the urge to bash his head into the table as Jay crowed his victory, Roy cackling with laughter in the background. He doesn’t remember whose idea it was to bet on reality TV but it had been a horrifically bad if not amusing one.

Jason and Roy had sworn up and down that they had never seen the season they were watching, but Jason was cleaning him out as Roy was making a monumental effort to make Jay go broke. They’d been trading off the same $200 back and forth all night in varying bets.

And they both looked so happy. The kind of happy where you throw you head back and laugh until your stomach hurts. Dick was too; it was an echo of what had been started during the hours-long work session that had ended… not so great. After all the shit that had happened to him, Jay deserved to be happy.

Roy’s bet on the outcome of the skull pick comes true, and he shrieks with victory until Jason’s downstairs neighbor starts banging on the ceiling (their floor). It’s muffled, but he can hear a few choice words thrown in a lot of shouting at them to shut up.

Jay untucks his legs from his curled position and stomps twice on the floor, shouting a loud sorry to someone named Riley before turning his attention to his friend. “Are you a fucking psychic?” Jay demands, tucking his legs back up and wrapping a couch blanket around himself like an angry burrito.

Roy grins, “No, I’m just a fucking winner, Jay-Jay.” he taunts. Jason grabs a pillow and flings it at him full-force. It smacks Roy hard in the center of his chest and nearly topples him from his perch on the arm of the couch. He squawks in indignation and is probably about to retaliate when he gets distracted by the tattoo artists starting to shit-talk. Dick had tried to give the archer his seat, but Roy had refused and instructed him to ‘sit his ass down’.

Throughout the hours and hours of watching almost the entire season, Jay and Roy pass a scratched-up Rubix’s cube back and forth between them, solving it and then messing it up for the other to try. It looks like some kind of weird ritual, but he doesn’t tease them about it.

The Outlaws’s apartment isn’t what he expected. It’s right in the thick of one of the worst neighborhoods in Gotham, but Jay had a point. God help anyone that decided it would be a good idea to break into their apartment. Dick was pretty sure the tiny bundles of wires and charges scattered all over their kitchen table were the precursors to Roy’s explosive arrows.

They get through seven seasons of Ink Masters before Roy and Jason get cleared by Leslie. Both of them hit the beat immediately, and binge-watching TV together turns into adjacent patrols.

Scarecrow briefly breaks out of Arkham; Tim, Bruce, and Damian get him thrown back in within a half-hour. Dick thanks whatever powers that be for the fact that Roy and Jay had been busy with a large-scale robbery at the time. They’d gone months without incurring any fatalities, and Dick wasn’t sure if the thread-thin line of peace they’d been walking would survive it.

Roy goes to South America for a week, and they take turns sticking around with Jason in ‘his territory’. He switches safehouses, and gives Dick permission to tell the rest of the family the name of the street he lives on.

It’s progress. He really can’t believe it, and couldn’t be happier. Jay still refuses to set foot in the Manor and tenses up like he’s expecting a blow every time someone hints at it, but he keeps a com. Keeps working with them. Watches their backs and lets them watch his without ripping their heads off

And then he becomes fast friends with Damian and Cass.

The best way to describe it would be an absolute nightmare. Damian swipes Bruce’s batarangs and he and Jason paint all of them glittery pink with nail-polish. Each of them is a sneaky little mastermind, and together they were a combined holy terror.

And then when Dick lets himself into their apartment, it’s just Roy. It’s just Roy, sitting on the countertop with his laptop in front of his.

“Where’s-”

“Gone.” Roy snaps. He shuts his laptop with a slam that can’t be good for it. He’s agitated, only half dressed for patrol when he was always fully suited up a full half hour before Dick and Jason. “Didn’t leave a note for you guys this time.”

Dick’s brain immediately goes into information intake mode. Jay’s stuff is still there, his favorite blanket thrown across the floor instead of draped over the back of the couch. His non-uniform boots (if you could still call them boots with how worn out they were) were still sitting in their space by the door next to Roy’s hightops. “What do you mean he’s gone?”

Roy glared at him. He slid off the counter and grabbed his shoes, pulling them onto his feet and clipping his quiver to his belt at the hip. “I mean he left, Grayson. Let’s roll; the Alley isn’t going to wait for us.” He carefully placed his domino over his eyes to conceal his identity and put on his beaten-up hat, heading for the door.

Dick stepped in front to block him. Roy gave him a look, dangerous and low, and Dick realized that the redhead was just as freaked out as he was. “Dick, you have three seconds to get out of my way before this gets ugly, alright? Because you need to understand that this happens sometimes. You don’t know him anymore, so learn to go with the curveballs or they’re going to knock your fucking teeth out when they hit you in the face.” he said lowly, stabbing a finger in the center of his chest, “Trust me on this.”

He pushed past Dick, knocking him hard with his shoulder and slamming the door behind him. Leaving Dick standing alone in the apartment feeling like an idiot. He crossed the main room slowly, opening the little side closet. All of Jay’s gear was still in there.

He sighed, tapping his comm twice to turn it on.

“Roll call?” he asked tiredly, dropping down into a ripped-up armchair.

The line crackled as somebody signed on. “Red Robin and Robin working through Downtown, What’s up Nightwing?”

“Red Hood’s gone off the grid. I’ll touch base with Starfire, but Arsenal’s got no idea where he went. All his gear’s still here, so he’s civilian right now.”

Tim cursed, groaning in complaint. “Alright. We’ll keep an eye out for him. He can handle himself, don’t worry. Who’ve we got running the territory right now?”

“Arsenal just went out.”

“Alright. Okay, uhm, Batman’s about to roll out, so I’ll cover the in between and Robin can join up with him. Red Robin out.”

“Nightwing out.” He tapped his comm again, signing out of the channel and putting his head in his hands. Roy had said that this was just a thing that happened; that Jay would just disappear sometimes. What had set him off this time?

They interacted on Jason’s schedule. Bruce kept his distance, but he and Jay had passing words with one another. He was friends with Damian and Cass. They knew instinctively when to back off and when to hang on. Something the rest of them were still working on.

Oh no.

Oh, shit.

Dick stood up, pulling off his boots and stealing a pair of black joggers from the closet. He snagged an old Phantom of The Opera shirt and one of Jason’s jackets, along with Jay’s boots from the door. He slipped his domino mask into the pocket of his borrowed coat before going up to fire escape to check the roof. It was stupid; Roy would have looked there first, but he was covering all his bases.

Tomorrow was April 27th. The anniversary of the day that Jason died. He tapped his comm again, cutting into some argument that Tim and Damian were having about dogs.

“Guys, I think we need to find him. It’s April 26th.”

Silence stretched over the comm as Jay locked the safehouse door behind him. “Yeah, we do. Shit, it’s always been Bs bad day I didn’t even… fuck. We’re terrible.”

“That isn’t new.” Damian said flatly.

“Yeah, well let’s change that then, demon spawn.” Tim said shortly, “We’ll take Downtown. Alert Arsenal if you see him and hit all Hood’s usual haunts. I’ll keep an ear out for Batman and inform him.”

“Okay.”

“Nightwing, it’ll be fine. He knows how to handle himself.” Tim assured, “See you later.”

Dick left their apartment behind him, zipping up Jay’s jacket and burying his hands in the pockets. Jesus, Jason better have brought a coat with him. It was freezing.

-

It was fucking freezing, but he couldn’t really care. Just couldn’t… couldn’t really feel much of anything.

The sun was starting to come up, but he didn’t feel tired. His knuckles were bruised. He hid them in his pockets, not wanting anyone to try to talk to him about it or make it their business.

His legs ached. Jason wasn’t really sure how long he’d been standing there. He kept losing time. Losing touch, like he was floating a foot and a half from his own body and couldn’t feel the cobblestone beneath his feet.

It was the closest he’d gotten. He could see the graves beyond the rusted fence and ivy. The petals on the flowers people had left. Shrivelled sunrise colors on dusted snow.

He didn’t know which one was his. When he’d crawled his way out of his own grave, he hadn’t stuck around. And he’d still had a pretty severe head injury at the time so sue him if he didn’t remember.

He should go back home. But he needed to be somewhere else, and he couldn’t make his feet move. Could taste the dirt in his mouth and feel the splintered wood against his fingers. He curled his fingers tighter in his pockets, nails pressing into the skin of his palms until he could feel it hurt.

“Jason?”

He didn’t turn around. Didn’t want it to be some stupid trick his brain was playing on him. It would fit; he’d lost his voice screaming for Bruce beneath the dirt. He could be hallucinating that along with the flashes of green in the edges of his vision. The smell of blood that wasn’t there stinging his nose. He’d heard someone laugh a few hours ago and nearly had a panic attack on the spot.

The voice is closer this time. It repeats his name again, and still sounds like Bruce. “What’s going on?”

He shrugs. Stares at graves through the gap in the ivy somebody had forgotten to cut and tries to figure out which one is his. Tries to ignore the phantom taste of grave dirt and iron blood in his mouth. Bruce is standing next to him now. Not Batman. Batman doesn’t wear collared shirts.

Bruce puts a hand on his shoulder and he grabs his wrist on instinct. He keeps himself from trying to break the bone, but can’t help the way his fingers dig into the fabric of his suit jacket. He can’t really let go, either. His brain is sending the message but the muscles of his fingers are locked tight.

“You’re alright.” Bruce said quietly. He brought his hand up to cover Jason’s, prying his fingers off but not hurting him. Bruce straightened Jason’s fingers out and placed it on his chest. Directly over his heart so Jay could feel his own heartbeat underneath his hand.

It was a trick from when he’d been Robin. He’d been a tough kid, but even he’d gotten freaked out sometimes on patrol. Jay had a hard time with drug dealers back when he’d been Bruce’s partner; he’d get angry too fast, cagey and weird. Thinking back to his mom dead on the kitchen floor of an overdose, and he'd put his hand over his heart and just feel it beat until it felt like the floor underneath him was real.

It helped to ground him, feel a little more like he wasn’t a ghost haunting his body. Smell the smoke embedded in the fibers of his jacket instead of blood that wasn’t even there as he felt the rhythm under his fingers. “Jay, why’re you looking over there?”

“One of ‘em’s mine.” he muttered. “I died tomorrow.”

Bruce looked him up and down, cocking an eyebrow at him. “You don’t look dead to me. And that’s your heartbeat, pretty sure you need one of those to be alive.”

His heartbeat thrummed steadily under his hand and he pressed a little harder to feel the pressure. “Do you need me to call your team?” he asked gently.

“No.” Jason stared blankly at him, keeping his hand on his chest. Bruce looked older than he remembered. Still young, but there were lines in his face that hadn't been there before. He looked tired.

Bruce leaned in close, lowering his voice even though nobody else was around. “If you don’t want me to call anyone, that’s okay. But you are not okay right now. So you tell me what you need me to do here.”

Jason opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Bruce made a decision, hooked his arm with Jay’s and started walking. He didn’t fight it, was only half-there to begin with and maybe he was done staring through a fence at a bunch of stones and skeletons.

Something fuzzed with static and it took him a moment to realize that it was the comm in his ear. He tuned out Bruce’s chattering in favor of Roy’s voice in his ear.

“Hey man. I’m uh, out on patrol. Do whatever you gotta do and don’t worry about the territory; me and the bats got it covered. Just uh… try to stay safe, Alright? And call me when you can.”

There’s a pause and for a moment Jason thinks Roy signed off without using the code signal it, until his voice comes back over the line. Much quieter than before. “Love you, Jay. Arsenal out.”

“He said he loves me.” Jason mumbled, and Bruce stopped talking but didn’t stop walking. “Who did?”

“Roy.”

“Oh... Do you love him too?” he ventures. Jason nods. He can tell Bruce is trying hard not to stare too much at his eyes, which he knows are Lazarus green right now, or gawk at the white roots growing in the front of his bangs. He'd meant to dye it again, but didn't find the time.

Bruce pats his arm. A little awkward since Jason’s still got a hand on his own chest, but the sentiment is there. “Then good for you two. He seems nice.”

Jason stops. He can smell the salt in the air, feel the bay’s breeze tousle his hair. They’re by the pier. He can’t remember walking all that distance, just snatches of the casual conversation that Bruce had been having with himself. But there they were.

“What’re you doing, Bruce?” he asked quietly. He dropped his hand to shove it back in his pockets and Bruce let go of him. Nervous, but not in the fake ‘Brucie’ bashfulness. Genuine. He didn't know what to do with the kid he hadn't been able to relate with for so long.

“Trying to help.”

Jason laughed dryly, shaking his head. “You-... You’ve got no idea, do you?”

Bruce stared at him, crossing his arms over his chest for warmth. The cold reached past the haze now that it was starting to thin, and he couldn’t feel the tip of his nose anymore.

“Bruce. I am extraordinarily fucked up, and I don’t understand why the hell you don’t get that.”

Bruce actually laughed. Jason was caught between being stunned and wanting to push him into the harbor. “Jason. If you think that your mental health would make me love you any less, than I must have seriously messed up somewhere along the line to give you that impression.” Jason opened his mouth to argue but Bruce put a hand up to stop him and kept going.

“Our entire family fights crime in the dark dressed like bats. Damian and Cass were both assassins, Tim stalked us to figure out identities, Dick’s… well, he’s Dick. Barbara could probably hack into the Pentagon if she felt like it. Stephanie’s dad was a supervillain. We’re fucking weird, Jay! We’ve all got our stuff, and just because you’ve got issues doesn’t mean that we don’t love you regardless. You think we’re going to throw you out because you have PTSD?”

Jason, completely out of answers he was willing to give and possibly about to cry, blurts out the first thing that pops into his head.

“I’m telling Alfred you said fuck.”

Bruce rolled his eyes with a smirk. He knew Jason was avoiding the question but was merciful enough not to shoot at that rabid bear. “Oh, please. He’s heard much worse from Tim and Damian arguing.”

“So what, we just pretend that I didn’t try to kill you and two of your kids and just go play fucking Monopoly together?”

“You hate monopoly.” he pointed out.

“That is absolutely not the point!"

“I’m aware. You already know my answer, Jason, just fucking work with me here please. I know it’s not that simple, but you’ll always have a place in this family and I’ll say it again if you need to hear it.” Bruce said firmly, putting his hands on Jason’s shoulders and looking directly into his eyes. “You have been through more than most people deal with in their entire lives, it’s okay if you’ve got some scars to show for it. You are alive, and you are here, and it’s okay even if it feels like it isn’t. Even if… even if I don’t approve of the things the Outlaws do sometimes, I’m still proud of you, Jay.”

Jason took Bruce’s hands off his shoulders, and for a second the bat looked crushed.

“I’m not coming back to the manor. And if somebody needs to be taken out to keep others alive, I’m going to do it.” he said carefully, “I’m going to wander around at 6am when it gets bad, and I can’t go near graveyards or sleep normal hours because I dream about the inside of coffins and psychos with green hair. There’s a number scale for how I’m feeling; a nine is locking me in a room so I can break shit. I sucker-punched a clown once on Halloween and Roy had to walk me down the street so I didn’t kill the guy. This time last year, I couldn’t get out of bed for a week.”

“You can’t scare me off, Jason; you tried to hit me in the face with a tire iron the first time we met.” Bruce deadpanned.

“I-”

Bruce surged forward and trapped him in a hug. Jason’s hands hovered over his back, frozen in place. “I adopted you. You’re my son, and that has never changed.” he said fiercely.

After another moment’s hesitation, Jason hugged him back for just a second before lightly pushing him off. Bruce took the hint, taking a step back to give his frayed nerves some space.

“So… you and Roy?”

“Don’t make me push you into the water, I swear to God I’ll do it.” he threatened, scrubbing a hand over his face, “Seriously, Who taught you people how to feel things? Was it Alfred? Because if one more person gives me an emotion speech I’m going to flee the fucking country.”

“...”

“Holy shit! It was, wasn’t it?” he laughed. Needling Bruce felt easy, he’d had a few years of solid practice before a green-haired psycho clown blew him up. Helped take the feeling of cotton out of his head and get the frozen gray matter jump started.

Before Bruce could defend against it, there was a rustle of fabric behind them. Both men turned to see Roy. Hanging upside down from a grappling line like Spiderman, a concerned look on his face. “Jay…?”

Roy didn’t even have to say anything for Jason to know what he was going to ask. “Low seven.”

Roy’s head didn’t turn, but Jason knew his eyes flicked between him and Bruce, calculating and confused. He disengaged the line and flipped down, landing solidly on his feet a few feet away from them. Roy peeked over his shoulder to make sure no one had noticed a vigilante clad in red dropping in. It wouldn’t be good for Bruce Wayne’s image to be seen talking to Arsenal at the crack of dawn.

“Good, uh, do you want me to…?” he pointed back over his shoulder. Jay knew Roy didn’t like Bruce, but he looked like he’d rather be fighting the robotic wolves instead of being within five feet of him. One of the few big, crazy criminal schemes that had been a one off. Guess they didn’t like it when the good majority of the bat family descended out of nowhere to join the fray.

“No, no, you’re fine.” Bruce assured him.

Roy looked between them one more time. He stepped up and punched Jason none-too-gently in the shoulder. "Don't scare me like that. You text me next time, alright. Swear to God, Jay, you're one of the only people annoying enough to make me worry about you." he chided

Jason grinned as Roy turned and walked away, keeping on the ground for now instead of running rooftops. "If you feel like coming around, he's invited too." Bruce offered, trying to come off as casual. "No work talk."

"I'll... think about it." Jay promised, eyes trained on the red silhouette as he disappeared.

"I'll think about it."


	12. Baby, I Compare You To A Kiss From A Railing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason gets his first real Christmas and Christmas Eve since he died, and spends it with the last people he thought he would. It's not so bad, even if somebody ends up with stitches.

Jason didn’t call ahead, so when both of the on-planet Outlaws pull into the batcave on their motorcycles Tim’s understandably suspicious. There’s a thin smear of blood on the front of Jason’s jacket, and a lot more on Roy, but considering the area they patrolled it wasn’t too strange a sight. Jason parks quickly, taking off his iconic red helmet and setting it on the seat of his bike before making a beeline for the archer. Tim can’t tell exactly what happened until Roy slowly took off his helmet.

His bottom lip is badly split open, an angry bruise already forming that stretches from the line of his jaw to his cheekbone. His eyes settled on the three of them standing there as Alfred lead him over to the table. Roy’s hand went back up to cover the bloodied part of his face before Alfred scolded him into putting it back down so he could take a look.

Tim wandered over, Damian right behind him. The archer looked intensely annoyed, but the sour look on his face was more at the situation than Alfred looking him over. Jason disappeared for a minute and Roy looked like he’d love nothing more than to vanish right about then.

Damian looked him up and down, taking in his torn-up lip and the blood streaming down his neck. “You look terrible.” he said flatly, face pulled in disgust.

Roy barked out a laugh that turned quickly into a grimace, hand going to rest over the right side of his ribs. “Ow, fuck.” As he swore, Tim caught sight of the bad chip of one of his canines. Half the tooth was practically gone. Tim doubted that someone had managed to get the upper hand on Roy; he fought scrappy like every move would be his last. But something had definitely happened to hurt him like that.

He took a breath, letting Alfred take his chin and tilt his head side to side to assess the damage. Roy groaned unhappily as the butler announced that he needed stitches to fix his lip and dragged out the medical kit.

“What the hell happened?” Tim asked.

Roy wiped at the blood running down his neck with the back of his hand, only managing to make the problem worse. “Grapple line malfunctioned.” he admitted sourly, “Fell, head whacked against a railing trying to catch myself.”

Yikes. Dick was going to freak out; the acrobat’s number one fear was falling. With damn good reason.

“Fortunate that you were able to recover yourself.” Damian said stiffly. Tim stared at him like he’d grown a second head. It looked like it was almost painful for him, but since when did demon spawn play nice?

“He almost didn’t.” Jason appeared out of nowhere, one of Dick’s shirts in his hands. Soft grey, with ‘Bludhaven Police Department’ across the front with the station’s crest. He offered it to Roy who gingerly eased himself out of his tunic.

The right side of his chest was bruising like someone had hit him with a car. “Jesus, dude.” Tim said quietly. Apparently, he’d hit more than just the side of his head trying to recover his fall. It explained him clutching at his ribs after he laughed. Roy wiped the blood carefully from his face and less carefully from his neck before swapping the now bloody tunic with Jason for Dick’s sweatshirt, trying to spare it from stains.

“The ‘railing’ was on somebody’s balcony. He fell from a fucking high rise apartment.” Jason continued. Roy glared at him, shoving the rogue bat none too gently with his foot to get his attention off of spiraling. Thinking about Roy falling to his death and becoming a red stain on the pavement.

“Yeah, and I came out of it just banged up. Still alive over here, Jay.” he reminded. He removed the domino from over his eyes, blinking for a few seconds before rubbing at the skin it had been covering. They’d have to check if he was concussed later.

Damian watched like an owl as Alfred stitched Roy’s lip back together. The force of hitting against the railing must have just split the skin and muscle. To his credit, Roy didn’t make a sound as Alfred fixed up his face, he squeezed his eyes shut and took it like a champ.

He assured Alfred and a hovering Jason that his ribs weren’t cracked, just bruised, before checking out the damage in the camera of his phone.

“Wow... I am not going to be very pretty for a few weeks.” he joked, turning his head to get a good look at the darkening bruise on his jaw. He bared his teeth at the camera and inspected his halfway-chipped-off canine. He poked at it with his fingers, seemingly dissatisfied at finding it wiggly. “Yikes. Merry Christmas to me.”

“Yeah, don’t think makeup is going to cover that.” Tim sympathized, “How secure is your civilian identity?”

Roy looked away, all of a sudden very interested in the wall. “It’s not really… active.” he mumbled, swinging his legs slightly.

“What?”

“It’s been dark for three years.” he admitted, shrugging and running his tongue over the missing chunk of his tooth. “I stopped maintaining it.”

“You- I can’t even begin to-”

“I swear to god Tim, if you tell me how stupid that is, you get to join the missing tooth club.” Roy warned, only half-kidding. It was written clear across his face not to push him. “I spent half of two years ago in space. Drop everything kind of missions. I didn’t spend enough time as a civilian to put the effort in, and it wasn’t worth it anyway.”

“So what, you’re just Arsenal all the time?”

Roy shared a look with Jason, seemingly genuinely baffled that Tim would even ask. “Yeah? What exactly do you think I did? Daylight at Home Depot?”

Tim paused. He didn’t know what he thought Roy did, but he’d assumed that they’d both done something outside of vigilantism. “I don’t know.” he admitted. Roy shifted off the table, snatching an empty basin from what was more of a medical trunk than a kit. He gathered the saliva in his mouth and spit red into it. They’d seen a demonstration of Roy’s pain tolerance when he refused painkillers above Tylenol with a broken leg, and it held up even with a shredded-up face.

“Might sound weird to you, but I found what makes me feel like I’m actually alive. And it protects good people, and if I’m smart it won’t kill me.” he explained, “I didn’t separate shit like you guys do. Arsenal is Roy. You get it?” He asked like he expected Tim to say no. He was a little surprised he wasn’t going to.

“Yeah, sort of.”

“I want to do that.” Damian announced. There was a beat of silence before Jason burst out laughing. Roy grinned, cursed when it pulled at his stitches and tried to cover his mouth with his hand to help.

“Wait until you’re eighteen. Then you get all the social skills you need to relate to civilians.” Jason covered, quick on his feet. Damian considered for a moment. Like if he really wanted to, he could just be Robin 24 hours. Honestly, Bruce might not be able to stop him if he ever did.

Thankfully, Damian just inclined his head. “I’ll call father.” He turned on his heel and headed for upstairs with Alfred.

“Please don’t do that.” Jason called after him. Of course, Damian ignored him. He disappeared just as Roy grabbed onto the sleeve of Jason’s coat.

“Roy?”

He stared forward, fingers digging further into the leather. Jason grabbed the trash can under the table and shoved it at him. Roy grabbed onto it and retched, curling over it as Jay held his hair back. Tim took his water off the computer desk and stole one of Barbara’s hair ties she’d left and offered it to him as he came back up for air.

Roy accepted it with a muttered thanks, washing his mouth out and handing the can back to Jason. Jay slung an arm around his shoulders in comfort. Tim frowned, holding up a finger in front of the redhead’s face. “Follow it with-”

“-my eyes, not my head.” he finished, following the instruction anyway. His blue eyes tracked perfectly. Tim must have looked just as confused as he felt because Roy rolled his eyes and explained. “Migraine. Jay already did that concussion test to me at a red light.” He tied his hair up into a neat bun in case he felt like he had to throw up again.

“Thank you for this lovely bucket of puke.” Jason teased, setting the trash can at the other end of the table Roy was perched on, “Exactly what I wanted.”

Roy smirked, gingerly touching his lip to make sure he didn’t rip a stitch throwing up and poking at Jason with his elbow. “Look at you; shit talking the injured. I’ll aim for you next time.”

The joking stopped dead as Bruce’s car pulled into the cave. Weird, he was supposed to be at a gala with Dick, who leapt out of the passenger seat like someone had lit him on fire.

“Who fell?” he demanded. Jason stepped out of the way, letting Roy into Dick’s line of sight. Bruce shut off the car and was right behind Dick as he rushed over.

“Jesus Christ.” he breathed, taking in the stark black stitches and the darkening bruise. Roy had gotten most of the blood in his attempt to clean himself up, but there was still a faint stroke of crimson slowly drying on the side of his neck, and the smear on Jason’s jacket.

It occurred to Tim in the back of his mind that this was Dick’s worst nightmare. Somebody falling and getting seriously hurt or dying. Hell, he’d watched his parents plummet to their deaths. Shit like that follows you.

Roy held up his hands to ward them off as they got close. “It’s not worth freaking out over; just a little banged up but I’m aces.” he assured them.

“Everyone is getting new kits.” Bruce decided, looking over Roy with a critical eye. If the sweatshirt hadn’t been covering the painful-looking appearance of Roy’s upper torso, Bruce and Dick would probably be in an absolute state. More than they already were.

“What the hell happened?” he demanded. Funny, Tim had said the exact same thing.

Roy stared at Bruce boredly, more annoyed than anything else. “Fell off the side of a highrise, caught myself on a balcony.” he said shortly, pulling off his gauntlet gloves and tossing them to Bruce. “You can check yourself if you want to; the line snapped. Simple as that, alright?”

Dick snatched one and immediately went for the section that the line came out of when engaged. Sure as he’d said, Dick pulled and got the frayed end of cable. “It’s defective. Don’t worry about it.”

If anything, Roy’s reassurance only made Dick pale further. Jason stepped up and took the piece out of his hands. “If you would feel safer if we had new kits, fine. Not gonna fight you on that one.” he said casually, taking the other from Bruce and handing them back to the archer.

Bruce went to continue but was interrupted as Roy slid his gloves back on, getting to his feet. “Listen, I don’t like it either, but we train for stuff like this. I recovered the fall so can we please not dwell on what could have happened? If I did, I’d never be Arsenal again. Hell, I wouldn’t even leave the apartment.” Fatigue dripped off every word. They’d been at the very tail end of their patrol and neither looked particularly steady on their feet. He pressed a palm over his eye for a moment in a half-assed attempt to counter pressure his migraine.

Jason stared at Dick, face neutral but eyes concerned. “Big Bird, you okay?”

Dick had his arms crossed tightly over his chest, wrinkling the finely-pressed material of his suit jacket. The posture was something he’d seen a hundred times on Jason but it wasn’t natural for Dick. Dick did it when he got nervous; deep-pressure for anxiety. “Fine, why?”

Jay made a face at him. “Dick…” He and Roy shared a look, which Tim was starting to think was a thing.

Roy leaned against the table, drumming the space next to him with his fingers.. “C’mere.”

Dick didn’t put up a fight even if it was obvious that he didn’t know what the hell was going on. They all trusted Roy not to stab them or anything, but he was pretty touchy. When Dick got within reaching distance, Roy muttered a warning about his bruised ribs before both he and Jason pulled him into a quick hug. “It’s alright man.” Roy assured him, “New kit, remember? Just take a breath and try to let it go.”

Dick smirked, still visibly tense but better. Shocked at the display from the only person besides Damian that was just as prickly as Jay. “Awwww, Tin Man has a heart.” Jason barked out a laugh as Roy slugged Dick roughly but playfully in the shoulder. “Watch it, or I’ll go spend Christmas at a Denny’s.” he threatened.

Dick lit up with the biggest excited puppy eyes Tim had ever seen. “You guys are staying for Christmas?”

Jason shrugged, folding his arms and sidling closer to Roy. “I mean yeah, still have patrol but we were gonna swing by. Not Christmas Eve though. Swan-dive onto a balcony wasn’t planned and Leslie doesn’t work tonight.” he explained.

Tim stopped paying attention as Jason and Roy attempted to placate the two frazzled bats. Christmas with another former Robin to join the two already there sounded… really nice.

He could get used to this.

-  
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He doesn’t see them until he flicks on the light, which is rare. He can hear Bruce’s voice in the back of his mind nagging him over the slip in his skills as Jason blinked rapidly against the brightness. Roy was slumped into him, leaning bonelessly into his shoulder with his hair draped across his face.

He checked his phone, “What’re you doing? It’s like 7pm.”

“Running a fuckin’ marathon, what does it look like?” he mumbled, snuggling further into the corner of the couch. “What’d you want, Dick?”

He shifted the backpack behind himself. “Nothing. Didn’t know you guys were in here.” he covered. Jason snorted, going still as a statue when Roy grumbled in his sleep at the movement. “Dude, I know the deal with Santa. Go put your shit under the tree.”

Dick rolled his eyes, shouldering the bag and getting out of the doorway. A scattering of presents was already sitting under the tree. He wasn’t positive of when the tradition of sneaking around each other to put stuff under the tree.

“Tim and Steph beat you to it.”

He dumped his backpack out, scanning what was already there. “Cass too.” he noted.

Jason nudged Roy, who snapped awake immediately, only to flop the other way to let him up and put his (bootless) feet up where he’d surrendered the space. Jay crouched next to him, looking over the stash. “No way. We’ve been here for like five hours!”

Dick pointed to the tiny stack of gifts wrapped with paper covered in red plaid trees. “Those are hers. The ones with purple ribbons are Stephanie’s, and I’m guessing the silver snowflake wrapping paper is Tim’s. I’m guessing the reindeer in sunglasses are you?”

He shrugged, “Mine and Roy’s. Might not be great; we don’t really… know everyone?” he explained, phrasing it more like a question. Dick nodded and he went on, eager to change the subject away from himself. It always went like that. Little tidbits that he immediately steers away from afterwards. “Damn, I didn’t even see Cass come in. She and Damian are sneaky motherfuckers, huh?” he ventured.

“I mean, yeah. Kind of an assassin thing.” Jason snorted, straightening up and cracking his back in a series of pops that made Dick wince.

“Are you guys really going on patrol later?”

“Yeah, why?”

Dick rolled his eyes, dumping out his gifts under the tree. Another tradition was each going out to buy a roll wrapping paper. He was pretty satisfied with the ‘Lilo and Stitch’ theme he’d picked out. Roy and Jason had accidentally followed the unsaid tradition without being told about it.

“Not gonna speak for Roy, but that’s just kind of what I do. Not really worth living the alias. We did a five-minute Christmas kinda thing on the ship last year but I don’t do this stuff like this anymore.” he admitted. Roy grumbled something in his sleep, turning over to face away from them. The bruise on his face was truly something to behold now; darkened to an angry shade of purple and massive. It was a wonder that he hadn’t broken his jaw when his head bashed against the railing.

“When’s the last time you REALLY did Christmas. Like the dinner and tree and gross Starbucks flavors?” Jason thought for a second, shoving his hands in the pocket of the red hoodie he’d also stolen from Dick’s closet alongside the one Roy was wearing. He and Tim had only met like two months ago yet both of them shared the irritating habit stealing Dick’s clothes. Meh, he’d sacrifice his sweatshirts for family.

“Last one was at the manor. Year I died.” he said shortly, like it didn’t bother him at all. It was like Jason could talk about his death, but he couldn’t TALK about it. Man, he really had to stop overanalyzing and leave it to Tim. It was definetly not his deal.

“Well that’s depressing.” he said flatly, “Thank God we’re breaking that streak. I know for a fact that you’re a sucker for Christmas baking, so you guys better be back before we start or Alfred’s going to be really sad. So, so sad.”

Jay laughed. There was the grin that he’d been trying for. He’d seen flashes of it watching garbage reality TV (the best kind) in the Outlaws’ apartment, or when Roy said something that made him laugh. God, those two were so sweet on each other it made his teeth hurt. That he’d seen when Jason was Robin, making jokes to criminals as they tried to get the chance to punch his lights out and taking over the manor’s library.

“Low-blow, Dick.”

“Worked, didn’t it?” he smirked, “Besides, you need time off. Unwind a little so you don’t get bent out of shape and burnt out.”

Roy grabbed one of the pillows off the couch and chucked it one-handed, nailing Dick in the side of the head without even turning over to look. “Shhhhh. Sleep time.”

Dick shouldered his bag, throwing the pillow at Roy’s sprawled out legs instead of his head or torso to be careful of where he’d been hurt. He really wanted to nag them about patrolling injured but held back. Besides, Jason would call him out in a heartbeat about doing the exact same thing plenty of times. “Freaking nocturnal. They should call you the bats, more accurate.”

“Nah, think they got it right with the obsession with wearing black.” Jay shot back, “Hot Topic called; they wanna do a brand deal.”

The three of them burst into snickers as Jason headed back to the couch. Roy pulled his legs up to make room for him, seemingly a great sacrifice by the way his limbs dragged.

Dick paused with his hand on the door, looking back over his shoulder at them before flicking off the lights. “Jay?”

“Yeah?” he asked, blue-green eyes blinking in the dark. Not groggy in the least, Dick had a funny feeling he hadn’t been sleeping at all when he’d let himself in.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Dick.”

-click-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've actually had the same thing happen to my lip; hit a mailbox on a bike and tore it open pretty badly. Got a few stitches and a cool-looking scar from it and had to get my front teeth corrected. Never thought the experience would come in handy writing! I wanna thank you guys for coming along with me on the trip that was my first time posting a multi-chapter fic! All the kudos and especially your comments really helped when I got stuck, and I really appreciate it!. There will be a few smaller fics in the series focusing on different aspects of the Bats' (and Outlaws) personality traits, bad habits, and relationship dynamics. So excited to continue!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic on AO3, and my memory of the canon is a bit rusty, so apologies for any mistakes. This work was born out of a three-hour late night fic reading session and a lot of random stuff so be prepared. Thanks to my good friend @fishydwarrows for getting me on A03!


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